


The House Built by Bones

by bellefire



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Attraction at first sight, Class Differences, Hartwin, Humor, M/M, Mystery, Not Beta Read, Rating May Change, Romance, Supernatural Elements, and has some major trust issues, but also cake, eggsy loves m.i.a., explicit rating only applies to last chapter/epilogue wherein there is xmas related smut, harry is a valet, he’s had a hard life ok?, noble house of unwin, pining!Harry, there’s some weird creepy stuff going down in the Unwin House, written mostly from harry’s pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-04-28 06:56:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5082045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellefire/pseuds/bellefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy Unwin is the lost and newly found heir to the Unwin line, a prestigious noble family that has barely survived into the modern age.  Rumors abound as to why.  His new life should be great considering the shite one he’s led so far, no thanks to Dean and his brutes.  Now if only the house itself would stop trying to kill him.</p><p>Harry Hart is the valet working for the dwindling lineage.  Unfortunately for him Eggsy is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.  Eggsy is also going to be his new Lord.  And no, Eggsy, Harry is never going to use the word “haunted”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

On the 17th of October the House of Unwin was publicly in mourning. Perched like a dark jagged cloud upon a massive hill the house hand seen almost a hundred Unwins pass into the veil all the while its impressive stone walls never cracked nor did its prolific roof sag as time marched into decade after decade, dragging only a handful of Unwins with it. Their line was dying out and thus this death, the death of Thomas Lee Unwin, was more significant than others. Distant relatives circled the grand estate with their shark mouths gaping open ready for whatever scraps they could tear off as if the esteemed Lady Vivienne Unwin wasn’t alive and well. Despite Lady Unwins apparent frailty and small stature she stood strong and proud next to her husband’s gleaming black casket in the viewing room. The Unwin family crest was set high on the stone wall behind them, shield and arms cast in vibrant blue and genuine gold. Beside Lady Unwin was her husband’s valet, Harry Hart, over the years the three had become quite close friends and Harry had served the Unwins all his life just like his own predecessors. Harts served Unwins, it was simply of way of the world.

If he could Harry would have personally escorted each and every one of the so-called “family members” from the property right unto their greedy little arses outside the estate gates. Harry was perfectly aware that Lady Unwin was turning 86 that year but that did not mean she was about to keel over at any minute. The woman was made of steel beneath those finely woven dresses and beneficent smiles. Harry would have thought she was as sure of her strength as he was if it hadn’t been for the ever tall and dark figure of Merlin appearing an hour into the funeral to lean in and whisper something in Lady Unwin’s ear Harry couldn’t catch. Merlin was officially the family accountant, unofficially he was also the type of “fixer” any family of large means eventually needed. Merlin had with him a black folder he offers to Lady Unwin who takes it with unusually reverent hands.

Harry hears her quietly ask with more emotion than she had shown all day, “You finally found him then, thank God. Mr. Hart please attend the guests.” The dismissal stings but the Lady Unwin’s eyes are bright with the light of hope, Harry would never let a slight to his own self-importance dampen that in any way.

Merlin offers his arm and the Lady Unwin takes it letting him lead her away from prying eyes. “This won’t be simple.” Merlin reminds her in his thick Scottish brogue.

“Young man, I know that very well, thank you. If they want a fight, they will get one.”

The two vanish down a corridor just as Harry’s attentions are caught by the literal snapping fingers of the head of the Hesketh family. The Heskeths were distant cousins but the heir of the family was the godson of the late Lord Unwin and thus closer than anybody there to inherit according to Lord Unwin’s own Last Will and Testament. Harry’s contempt burned hottest for the Heskeths, particularly the elder Charles who was currently asking Harry about hors d’oeuvres like this was some cocktail party rather than a bloody funeral. Ever the stout professional Harry smooths the nonexistent wrinkles in his jacket and does indeed direct Charles out of the room where a decent amount of food was laid out in sliver serving trays surrounded by tasteful white carnations and violet hollyhocks. Every room seems larger for the out-of-place funeral décor and sheer amounts of people, Harry had forgotten how many souls the old house was made to fit. The walls themselves gave the impression of being more “lively” but for some reason Harry couldn’t say that was a comforting thought.

A heavy presence permeated the whole estate long before they opened the gates. Harry was not a superstitious man though he would admit to being somewhat unnerved when he was alone at night trying to slip into sleep. The past few days the feeling had been easier to ignore—drowned out by grief and the sheer chaos of organizing such a large funeral over seventy-eight hours, rather suddenly the oppressive feeling returned and before Harry could think too much about it Charles Hesketh was choking on a stuffed mushroom. The room stood still, gentlemen and ladies froze as Charles’ face turned an alarming shade of red and his arms flailed wildly. Harry doesn’t sigh, he barely manages to suppress it as he strides forward to lock his arms around Charles and give him the Heimlich. The slimy mushroom goes flying across the room narrowly missing the esteemed Percival Morton’s head and landing near a jittery maid named Amelia. Amelia looks appropriately mortified before scooping up the ejected mushroom with a napkin and scurrying off. Harry gets a few pats on the back and a, “Good show, old man!” from a few of the guests.

Charlie, Charles’ son and Lord Unwin’s godson, cracks an unseemly joke without looking that distressed at all, “I was afraid we were going to have two funerals instead of one for a second there!” Awkward laughter ripples through the room made louder than was polite by the high ceilings.

Charles coughs wetly into his hands, rather than thanking the man that saved his life Charles ignores Harry completely and addresses the room, “How strange. It was as if someone had their hands around my throat.”

“No shortage of people willing to do that.” Harry hears Mr. Morton, first name Percival, mutter under his breath. He likes Percival. The man’s daughter was running around somewhere.

“Surely just the change in the weather, dear, it’s gotten so cold so fast. Autumn sprouted up overnight, summer going the way of our poor Lord Unwin.” An elderly matron soothes.

“To Lord Unwin.” Charlie says with a bit too much cheer while raising his glass. The room raises their glasses in return murmuring the same sentiment a very few are honestly sincere the others faking through it so poorly Harry has to silently remove himself from the room for fear of “accidentally” skewering one of them with a serving fork.

Harry returns to the viewing room relieved to see Lady Unwin and Merlin also coming back, there’s a little bounce to her step that vanishes at the sight of her husband’s casket, the pain reflected there is smoothed over immediately by stoic professionalism. Harry was sorry to think the woman had a lot of practice. The Lady Unwin was no stranger to burying her loved ones. The short black lace veil sewn into her little hat was well-used but was never really needed and thus would only be drawn down when they lowered Lord Unwin into the ground later that day, Lady Unwin didn’t need to obscure her features for the sake of propriety she was always in perfect control of her emotions in all social situations. She was one of the few left in noble stock who still had the iron backbone that had built nations, most noble families these days in Harry’s view were rather weak-chinned.

“Mr. Hart,” Lady Unwin summons him over, her smile is small and faintly apologetic, “I’m afraid I have a rather important task for you that must be seen to immediately.” Harry’s couldn’t help his surprise, his eyes flicked to the demanding presence of the casket, it felt disrespectful to leave before he even saw his Lord and benefactor laid to rest. “Merlin will explain everything to you.”

“You mean I am to leave this very second?” Harry hoped he didn’t sound too petulant considering the place and the circumstances that would never do.

“This very second.” Lady Unwin’s blue gaze sharpened as people began moving into the viewing room for the actual service to start, “As I said Merlin will explain everything, do as he says…I am sorry Harry I know you wanted to be here, you deserve to be but this is too important to trust to anyone else.”

Sincerely Harry replies, “Whatever you need, m’am.”

“Thank you. You and Merlin best get going.” Merlin and Harry bow slightly and try their best not to garner too much attention as they avoid pushy requests from the guests and questioning looks from the staff.

“You’ve a small bag packed already in the car waiting outside, in case you need it. It don’t think you will.” Merlin tells him in a clipped tone. Harry didn’t take it personally, it was Merlin’s way. The two could be considered friends, they had a mutual respect and a tendency to rib the other to no end given the opportunity.

Harry nods and follows him through the richly adorned house to the foyer, everything was gleaming wood cast in long shadows, rich velvet cushions barely sat on anymore and oil paintings no longer lingered on by appreciative eyes but it was still immaculately clean. There was only one living Unwin in the house now and she hardly needed the full staff under her employ, Harry suspected that had more to do with emotional attachment than need however all those hands needing to make themselves busy ensured the mansion never fell into disrepair. However even the most well-kept houses got drafty. That’s what Harry told himself after he asks Merlin, “Are you going to tell me what exactly I’m supposed to be doing?”

Harry opened the door for Merlin to step through first with Harry close behind, “We are fetching the last heir to the house of Unwin.”

Harry is just across the door’s threshold when he feels a freezing puff of air against the back of his neck that has nothing to do with the chilly autumn wind. The giant oak door behind him slams shut causing them both to flinch.

“Drafty.” Harry says too quickly, his go-to explanation for anything odd always at the tip of his tongue.

Merlin’s stark features don’t even twitch (the bastard), “Right. As I was saying. Everything you need to know is in here.” Merlin hands over the same file from earlier because he was not going through all of this again, Harry could read it himself.

Harry puts some distance between him and the door, the words he reads in black and white push the strange occurrence out of his mind completely, “My God.”

Merlin hmmns agreeably, as agreeable as Merlin ever sounded.

“This whole time…” Harry follows Merlin to a black car billowing grey smoke from its tailpipe, his movements on autopilot.

“Aye, he was alive. Up until seventeen years ago. You were close?” Merlin opens the door of the car for Harry and if Harry had been paying attention it would have felt weird, he was normally the one opening doors for people.

“I…was often responsible for him.” Harry deftly gets into the car without looking away from the file, his coat is in the car already but he doesn’t touch it despite the cold temperature.

The fact of the matter was Harry had practically raised Lee Unwin himself through no fault of neither Lord nor Lady Unwin, it was simply traditional and necessary considering how busy the Unwins generally were even when it came to their son. Lee was a bright and easy to please child full of imagination, his personality didn’t really match the old-fashioned dreariness of the Unwin House. Harry had thought the boy was just what the placed needed. New blood, full of promise, but the boy grew into a teenager and the dreariness became oppressive. Lord Unwin and Lee did not get along, and Harry was being polite about it, Harry couldn’t pinpoint the day Lee shifted into full-fledged hatred toward everything about their way of life. Then one day Lee was gone, in his wake nothing but a missing suitcase and a note. They had looked of course but he was going to be of age soon in the eyes of the law, legally they would have no ground to stand on, Harry had also suspected someone was helping “hide” the boy all these years. Harry had considered it his one great failing made greater by the concrete knowledge Lee was dead. Harry considered it his fault.

“Lady Unwin knew when it happened.” Merlin says getting to the car seat next to him and tapping on the partition to let the driver know to go ahead, “The Marines issued a notice to her but gave no other information per his request. He was killed in action, received the highest honors.”

Harry clenches the paper in his hands tightly, “She didn’t tell me.”

“She’s telling you now.” Merlin points out rather brusquely.

Merlin implies it’s not Harry’s place to expect anything from Lady Unwin, and it wasn’t, though he had believed she thought highly of him. Apparently not highly enough. Or maybe she had blamed him as much as he blamed himself, that would make more sense but didn’t sit right with him. As Merlin said she was telling him now, now as she trusted only the two of them to retrieve Lee’s son.

“There isn’t much here.” Harry eventually says. Not even a picture of the young man they were supposed to convince to come with them.

Merlin gives him a hard look, “What am I? MI6?”

“No, I rather thought you were a wizard.” Harry puts his roiling emotions about Lee in box inside his mind to be taken out and dealt with at a more appropriate time. It’s a lot harder to do then Harry makes it sound. He had a lifetime of service and training to fall back on that allows him to straighten his back and surge ahead, the feeling was not a particularly nice one.

“Hilarious, Hart.” Merlin grumbles. “Between the two of us, I’m not overly fond of bringing this lad to the Unwin House, that damned place had never been kind to youth.”

Harry turns away to stare out the car window. Blood red and golden leaves crown the trees, trees which were becoming less dense the closer they got to the city soon they would give way to the suburbs then to the slate greys of London. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Harry says.

Merlin scoffs, “Sure you don’t.”

No one ever talked about the Unwin House. The strange happenings there over the years were explained away, ignored, and under no circumstances was the word “haunted” ever used. That being said, it was true while many couples had more than one child it was not uncommon for only one child to survive to adulthood even when the new century turned and modern medicine made everyone’s lives better. It was all superstition in Harry’s opinion. And drafts. Or chills. Everyone on some level was uncomfortable alone in the dark. Even Harry Hart. The combination of all those things provided an easy explanation.

They fall silent for the rest of the ride. It’s just over an hour from the Unwin property to London. Merlin spends it tapping away on his ipad and Harry spends it reading and re-reading the thin file in his hands. He expects the car to stop somewhere in east London in the estates, a rougher part of the city to be sure, as is printed neatly in the file instead the car slows in front of the police department.

Apprehensively Harry asks, “Merlin.”

“Ah, you see the only reason we know where he is because Lady Unwin has it arranged for the police to toss us a line anytime someone with the surname Unwin rises any flags. Flags were raised, finally one checked out. We’re here to pick the lad up…bailing him out actually.”

“What?”

“Oh, didn’t I put that in the file?”

“No you didn’t.”

The car comes to a full stop at the steps leading up to the station. Merlin hands Harry an envelope full of money with all necessary documents he might need and deadpans, “Oops.”

Harry lets out a bone-weary sigh and climbs out of the car. Surprisingly arranging for the young Unwin’s release isn’t as difficult as Harry imagined. Merlin’s “magic”, Harry suspected was smoothing the way. The bored policewoman behind the front desk basically gave him the rubber stamp and told him it would be a bit of wait to process the boy out. The station was stifling compared to the crisp air outside so that’s where Harry chose to wait also in an attempt to clear his head. He felt like crying, he didn’t of course, wasn’t the time or place for that but he couldn’t help the feeling of the pressure behind his eyes and heaviness of his heart. Harry leans against a cold concrete wall and waits thinking one of the police would tell him when a Gary Unwin was released. Harry had no idea how the police operated and he’s left there waiting for half an hour until Harry sees him walking out of the station with a wary sort of natural grace.

Harry didn’t have a picture to go by but he knew, he just knew Gary Unwin the moment he saw him cast in a soft autumn glow looking as if he expected any passerby to throw him back in jail. The boy had the Unwin jawline for certain, strong and sharp, as well as the same shade of dusky blonde hair shared with many of his ancestors mostly hidden underneath a cap. His eyes were a bright blue-green under severely arched brows drawn down in a suspicious squint. Despite his blatant distrust of the whole world apparently Gary’s eyes still managed to hold a gentle quality. Along with a lithe athletic build though not at all tall, a quirk from his grandmother’s side maybe, the boy was simply beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Harry felt a rush of shame at thinking it. Gary Unwin wasn’t the type of beautiful people admired like the finest paintings or sculpture separated by glass, he was the type of beautiful that drove men to possess and Harry had no right to think a thought like that. Not a single bloody right.

Harry shuffled through the past twenty-four hours in his head and felt sick. He owed the Unwins too much in so many ways to entertain anything beyond professionalism even if it’s only within his own mind. Perhaps it mattered more so in his own mind where the only voice he had to answer to was his own and thus should always be an honorable voice if he could help it. Harry steels himself and catches the boy’s attention. He greats him, the boy responds in an unexpected way.

“Who the fuck are you?” The soon to be Lord Unwin asks with a hard expression and an east London accent.

Harry startles a bit unused to the scrutiny, in the back of his mind he worries if he’s the right man for this job, “I’m the man who got you released.”

The hard look doesn’t fade in the slightest, “That ain’t an answer.”

“Some gratitude would be nice.” Harry says not hiding his amusement but mainly worried about the way the boy refused to turn his back on him walking backwards a bit instead. The white knight tactic obviously wasn’t endearing him to Gary any so he tries something else, “I knew your father.”

At that Gary falters, curiosity flickering in those bright eyes. He doesn’t relax but he no longer looks like he was going to run away so it was a win.

“My name is Harry Hart and I work for your family, your father’s family. We have much to discuss, Gary.”

“Eggsy.” The boy says reflexively.

“I…what?”

“It’s Eggsy, nobody calls me Gary.”

Harry nods, “Eggsy.” The moniker suited him much more than “Gary” did for some reason. Harry smiles, Eggsy doesn’t though he does seem keener to hear Harry out.

They end up walking to a pub by the name of the Black Prince while Merlin followed creepily close behind in the car. Eggsy glances at it on the way and doesn’t say anything though he’s already on guard. Merlin had no tact. Harry couldn’t see the man but he could just imagine Merlin’s hawkish face squished up to the passenger’s seat window trying to get a better view of the new Lord Unwin. Merlin follows them inside, his face half hidden behind his tablet and the furthest thing from inconspicuous. Harry resists shoving his face in his own hands.

“Does he work for my dad’s family too?” Eggsy asks leaning in closer over the table just as they sit. His eyelashes are long and bronze.

“Indeed. My apologies, Eggsy, he’s here because you are very important to a lot of people.”

Eggsy scoffs, “Yeah right.” The boy leans his head back revealing the length of his neck. Harry probably would have been transfixed like an idiot except for the thin red line the movement reveals. It’s a cut half-healed the length of a…there was also faint bruises on the other side of the boy’s neck. Now, Harry Hart was not an easily angered man, especially not around strangers. He was a valet of a prestigious line used to dealing with shite big and small, he was reserved perhaps not by nature but by necessity of his occupation, and yet he felt a streak of white hot rage shoot through him at the sight of Eggsy’s injuries and the implications those marks had. Someone dared to lay a hand on a lord of his house. Harry didn’t know who they were, the only way to find out would be to ask Eggsy and from his short time together with the boy he already knew how that intrusion would be taken.

As if he could read Harry’s mind, thank God he couldn’t, Eggsy ducks his head back down even more self-conscious than before. Harry wants to make that go away but isn’t sure how. Eggsy was gorgeous, quick-witted, and observant, he was an Unwin. There was no way to tell him all of those things without actually telling him all of those things, that wouldn’t do, he could raise the latter since that was the whole reason they were there however Eggsy beats him to it.

“So you knew my dad, worked for him? Posh bloke like you?” Eggsy’s eyes flick over Harry’s form. His cheeks are a smidge pinker than before, Harry attributes the color to the heated pub.

“I was his valet. As I was your grandfather’s, until recently. Which brings us to why we’re here today. I was at his funeral,” Harry glances at his own watch, “Three and a half hours ago, I was sent by your grandmother. You are the heir to the estate and all of his holdings. She wants to meet you, induct you officially as heir to the family. Hopefully, if you’re comfortable, perhaps even live there. There is, trust me, plenty of room.”

Eggsy is silent for a long minute and stares blankly at Harry, “Are you taking the fucking piss?”

Merlin chokes behind his tablet. He rises from his booth coming over to them in a few long strides making Eggsy shift defensively, Merlin could be intimidating wishing someone hello. He hands the incredulous Eggsy his tablet, on it are multiple pictures of Lee in family photos. Some are candids that included Harry playing with a much younger Lee.

“Afraid not.” Says Merlin in a grave tone.

Eggsy flicks through them tentatively, expression unreadable. The proof is right there in front of him, still he’s having a hard time believing it, “Then…you want me to what? Just pack up and leave with you? Kind of fucking weird innit?”

“I’ll admit the circumstances are abnormal, Eggsy, however I promise you we have your welfare in mind. Please, give us a chance. You are under no obligation to do anything at all, however I would ask for you to at least meet your grandmother.”

“She’s a hell of a lady.” Merlin adds. Harry makes a sound of agreement.

Eggsy looks away and stares at the pub’s door. A group of young men walk by, loud and obnoxious. Harry watches Eggsy tense up only relaxing when the group was gone, passing by without coming inside. The boy shakes his head then finally after long moment shrugs with a little self-depreciating smile, “Do I look like I got anything to lose?”

 

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

Eggsy was enchanted. Not a word the boy would ever use to describe any aspect of himself surely but Harry couldn’t think of a better word that suited the look of absolute wonderment on his face when they passed the gates of the estate and roll slowly up unto the driveway the very same evening as their initial meeting. Light illuminated the façade of the mansion making shallow corners seem like dark abysses, the stone seem unearthly, and the windows seem too tall and too watchful. At night the house seemed more of a living thing than any other time. Down the way the silhouette of the family cemetery could be seen stretching out like a promise. Most people would probably be intimidated by the house’s sheer size and old-world architecture that could easily be the backdrop to some cliché vampire film. Not Eggsy, he stands at the entrance to the walkway without an ounce of fear.

“I had that very same look when I came to work here for the first time.” Harry leans over to say. Eggsy jumps back slightly out of reflex. 

At the same time Eggsy gives a rushed, “Sorry.” as Harry says, “Apologies.”

Harry makes a point to not startle Eggsy again by subtly telegraphing his movements around the younger man just in case it wasn’t a singular event and rather it was Eggsy living a life that had him always on his toes. The more Eggsy spoke allowing Merlin access to his records the more Harry feared that was the case. Problem was Eggsy was talented at answering questions and friendly enough chatting without ever giving anything of himself away. Or anything of others. Harry simultaneously wants to know more and wants to reel himself in, in the end he plasters on a well-practiced veneer of calm.

It’s Merlin who points out most of the “grieving masses” have departed, “Except for one.”

Harry looks around, “The Heskeths?”

“Unfortunately.”

“What the hell is a Hesketh?” Eggsy asks.

“Useless.” Merlin answers.

Harry gives Merlin a hard look, personal opinions no matter how correct should stay personal especially in front the possible new Lord Unwin, “He means to say the Heskeths are a very esteemed family with long ties to your own.”

“Useless.” Merlin reiterates.

Eggsy smirks, his natural mischievousness shining through. It’s a good look on him, Harry decides. He was so bright and young, Eggsy’s presence would do the old house good. Harry became certain Eggsy would do a lot of things good. The boy waits for Merlin and Harry to lead him to the massive entryway door, not quite confident enough to use the gold knocker himself. Eggsy gives the elaborate piece of metal a look like it was the most absurd thing he’d ever seen. Harry hides a smile and knocks three times on the door, only a handful of seconds pass before Amelia opens the door for them. Eggsy takes in her attire and again his face scrunches up.

“Sorry,” Eggsy says lowly with a hint of blush to his cheeks when he notices Harry looking at him, “I didn’t think people wore stuff like that in real life, just in movies and stuff.”

“Think nothing of it, dear boy,” the endearment slips out by accident and Merlin raises a dark eyebrow at him, “Allow me to introduce Miss Amelia Irving, she is head of the maintenance staff here at the house. Amelia this is Eggsy, Lee’s son.”

“Oh my God.” Amelia gasps. Harry still felt quite the same.

Amelia is a middle aged woman, dark hair framed her face and she had an air of being permanently frazzled about her. She stumbles over herself a bit when she goes to curtsy, Eggsy makes an aborted attempted to reach out to her saying that wasn’t at all necessary but Harry puts a hand briefly on the boy’s shoulder to stop him. Eggsy gives her a weak smile and a short nod instead. He looks so immensely uncomfortable, Harry thinks, and he’s trying so hard to hide it. If he chose to stay Eggsy was going to have to learn to grow accustomed to these sorts of formalities, a simple curtsy from a maid was the least of what the boy was going to have to learn. From the look on Eggsy’s face, half apologetic and half horrified, he was getting an inkling of that same exact thought.

“It’s wonderful to have you home Lord Unwin.” Amelia says earnestly. Eggsy appears a shade or two paler and Harry decides it’s time to get a move on. Maybe find the boy something soft to sit on.

Merlin and Harry take Eggsy into a vast sitting room just off the foyer, past the domineering grand staircase with its massive glittering chandelier hanging overhead in the main hall. Harry has Eggsy plop unto a plush velvet ottoman. 

Merlin asks, “Are you alright, lad?”

Eggsy blinks and looks around taking in the paintings and the drapery, all the pomp and poshness that seeped from every grain of polished wood. He visibly deflates, “…Its…”

“A bit overwhelming?” Merlin guesses.

“Yeah.” Eggsy’s voice wavers a bit, unnoticeable unless one was paying explicit attention to every word the boy said. Which Harry was, probably a bit too much. He was afraid of missing something crucial about the boy, a stranger essentially, and he didn’t want to miss a single thing.

“Don’t worry about it lad, you stay here for a moment and Harry and I will make sure the Lady in residence is ready to see you. It won’t take long.” Merlin gives him a swift pat on the shoulder and practically had to physically move Harry out of the room.

Merlin didn’t comment on Harry not wanting to leave Eggsy alone, he said all he needed to with one look. Merlin was quite adept at consolidating words into a single expression, it was unnerving. When they are out of earshot of Eggsy already on their way up the grand staircase to Lady Unwin’s study on the second floor Harry hisses, “Don’t give me that look, Merlin.”

The “look” from Merlin intensified.

“I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong on all accounts.”

They stop at the study door and Harry expects some sharp retort from Merlin that never comes. The man makes a show of rolling his eyes then becomes all business as he knocks politely on the door. Harry follows his example though he has the overwhelming urge to reach over and flick Merlin’s nose. Obviously he did no such thing.

A faint “Come in.” was heard through the door. Harry frowned, she should’ve had an attendant with her. That attendant was usually him however and the day had been a long one, she probably needed some time alone. The feeling she was hiding more than just Lee’s son from him slithered up Harry’s brain. It was probably merely his own imagination, paranoid now knowing such a huge secret was kept from him. Harry opens the door to find Lady Unwin already standing. She was still wearing her mourning clothes sans her lace-trimmed hat and gloves, the black of her clothes made her skin seem impossibly pale and paper-thin. The study itself was very cold, many places in the house were. Heating it was something of a nightmare. Still her back was perfectly straight while she stood and she looked eager to see them, energetic.

“Mr. Hart, Merlin,” She greets them both, “you have him? He’s here?”

“He’s downstairs, m’am, safe and sound. Willing to talk to you.” Harry says.

Lady Unwin exhales a shaky breath, “Excellent. Thank you, both of you. I would see him immediately. Harry, would you please?”

“Of course, m’am.”

Merlin hands over all the new information he dug up on the way home with Eggsy’s unwitting help. They were going about learning of their possible new heir in the dodgiest way possible, they were aware of this but when it came to matters of bloodlines all the i’s must be dotted and all the t’s crossed. 

“Before you go…Harry, you should know.” Lady Unwin says, “ Keeping Lee’s death from you was not my idea. Thomas insisted you not know and I’m afraid I did not fight him on it.” 

Harry’s throat feels too tight, “He blamed me then…”

“No, no not at all, Harry. He believed he was being kind, he didn’t want you to blame yourself. We were both wrong and I am sorry. The Royal Marines buried him with honors, they told me he died saving his entire unit. Eight men. It seems he grew to a fine, brave, young man. He was my son but I know you had more to do with that than anyone.”

Harry leans against the door frame, “M’am…I..”

“But now is not the time for sentimentality, Mr. Hart,” Lady Unwin gently reminds, a hint of smile on her face. “There is still too much to be done. Now, my grandson?”

Harry straightens his posture, “Yes, right away. Thank you m’am.” God, he means it. Of course a large part of him was angry but nothing could be done now. The only thing he could do was right by Eggsy.

Harry hurries downstairs, he turns the corner into the sitting room and freezes. The young Charlie Hesketh and his father don’t notice Harry’s surprise or the seething pure animosity he sends in their directions because they are too busy crowding around Eggsy like carrion birds, their black dress coats made them seem loom taller and it was already not difficult to tower over Eggsy. 

“So, Eggy, I’ve never seen you around here before. I didn’t think the old woman would be hiring more help. Where exactly did you come from?” Charlie’s voice disturbs the usual peace of the room, the way he talks down to Eggsy is obvious and the way he’s looking him up and down has Harry surging forward.

Eggsy wasn’t one to let anyone disrespect him it would seem though he didn’t look offended at all at being mistaken for “help”. Eggsy arches a finely shaped brow asking, “You watch everyone who lives here? That’s a bit creepy mate.”

“I happen to be Thomas Unwin’s godson.” Charlie jeered.

“Old Tommy and I were quite close.” The elder Hesketh interjected, he couldn’t care less about his son’s interest in the sudden appearance of the random chav boy in the Unwin house. To Harry’s eternal misery what the man said was true. His late master’s taste in friends was one of the more questionable qualities about him. 

Charlie confidently defends himself, “It’s my prerogative to be aware of the staff. One day soon this will all be mine.”

At that Eggsy smiles, a clever curve of lips, “Don’t hold your breath.”

Harry uses the shock that makes the Hesketh’s faces fall in comic unison to interrupt them, “There you are Eggsy, ah, good evening gentlemen, apologies for the intrusion but I am afraid this young man’s presence is required elsewhere. Please excuse us.”

Charlie’s nose wrinkles, “We were on our way out anyway, weren’t we father?”

“Hm? Yes, yes.”

“Eggy.” Charlie deliberately says. He and Eggsy share a surprisingly civil handshake before the Heskeths depart. Charlie’s eyes burn with something that causes Harry to take a protective step in front of Eggsy. They see themselves out with little fuss, for Heskeths anyway.

The front door is firmly shut when Harry finally turns, “Where in the world did Amelia go? She should have led them out without disturbing you.”

Eggsy shrugs, “It was fine. I’m fine.”

“It was not fine.” Harry insists. Charlie was insulting on his best days, downright rage-inspiring on his worst. Who knows how long Eggsy had to face two Heskeths on his own.

“What? Because he implied I worked here? That’s not an insult Harry. Someone who works in a place like this is no worse than the bloke paying for it. I know what he meant by it but he’s just an arsehole from a long line of arseholes apparently. He could use a good face-breaking. Besides, you work here, and you’re plenty gentleman to me.”

A blush has Harry’s face heating up, “Thank you, Eggsy.”

Eggsy winks and the blush burns hotter, cheeky boy. Harry clears his throat, “Shall we? The Lady Unwin is ready to see you.”

Side by side they move to leave and its together they feel the rush of wind that makes the chilly room plummet to freezing. Eggsy takes an unconscious step closer to Harry’s side just as every lamp, light, and an errant lingering candle goes out. The Unwin house plunges into darkness. Harry couldn’t see Eggsy nor the hands in front of his own face but he could feel the boy’s body heat and leaned into it.

“Um,” Eggsy says warily, “Is that normal? Big old mansions and all…the wiring must be shite…”

Slowly each lamp and hanging light turned back on one by one and the dreadful freeze lifted. Harry looks down at Eggsy who was now alarmingly close to him, “Not normal at all, I fear. However, as you said this is an old house. They are…drafty.”

Eggsy levels him with a look that reminded Harry far too much of Merlin, “Drafty.”

“Yes, drafty. Come on Eggsy we are keeping the lady of the house waiting. Trust me that is never a good idea.” All ease they’d just shared dissipated replaced by Eggsy’s renewed suspicion not just of Harry but of the house itself as well. 

Harry starts toward the stairs and it takes a second for Eggsy to follow him. Harry could tell the moment the floors became a touch too creaky for Eggsy and the ceilings too high, corners capable of hiding who knows what. The boy put on a brave face, willing to follow Harry wherever he went. His nerves were apparent to Harry. When they arrive at the study again Eggsy’s nervousness was not about the odd happening with the lights, no, Harry recognized the apprehension that accompanied meeting someone new. Someone important. The door to the study this time was open. Lady Unwin stood alone in the center of the room, Merlin gone back to the secret base he crawled out of, surrounded by bookshelves and illuminated by tall Tiffany reading lamps. Her eyes shown with unshed tears, she did not rush out to sweep Eggsy up into an embrace but oh did she look like she wanted to. Always so reserved, the Lady Unwin, even when she was fit to burst with love. Eggsy on the other hand appeared to be terrified.

“Merlin told me you preferred Eggsy? Please, come in.” Lady Unwin motions toward a green leather chair on the other side of the study’s desk. Eggsy glances at Harry before going in, Harry gives the boy an encouraging smile.

“Mr. Hart, I would like to speak to my grandson privately, if you wouldn’t mind?” Harry bows slightly as he shuts the door behind him he hears Lady Unwin say in a tone of voice he’d never heard from her before, “I’ve waited a long time to meet you.”

Harry stands patiently just outside the study, Eggsy would need him when they were done, but the time drags ever on. The two talk for hours into the night, eventually Harry retrieves a chair to sit by the door. His eyelids grow heavy waiting, his blinks slower until Harry closes his eyes and then the next thing he knows he’s being gently shaken awake by Eggsy. Eggsy’s face fills his vision with his soft eyes and little smile, Harry decides it’s one of the best things to wake up to.

“Falling to sleep in hallways, Mr. Hart,” Eggsy digs in a faux posh accent, “not very proper of you.”

“I’ll try not to make a habit of it.”

“Any ghosts?”

“Not as such.”

“That’s…good.” Eggsy stared at him a couple of seconds too long. Whatever he saw in Harry made his face relax into a sad expression. Eggsy was sad and confused and Harry needed to know why, had the talk not gone well?

“Eggsy, are you alright?” Harry asks standing as if that somehow would allow him to fix all the boys woes.

“Yeah…it’s just…”

“What?”

“You all…I don’t remember anybody in my whole life that has ever looked at me like you lot do…like I’m worth something.” Eggsy admits with a shameful bow of his head, as if that was his fault. It wasn’t.

“Oh, my dear boy, you are worth the world.” Harry summons all the conviction he can into his voice, anything to get Eggsy to believe him.

Eggsy’s face goes through a complicated range of emotions settling on a furrowed brow and disbelief, “Jesus, Harry, you can’t just say shite like that.”

Harry scoffs, “Until such time as you decide to claim your inheritance and I am not actually your valet, I will say whatever I damned well please. And you are the hope of this house, Eggsy, if you choose to stay it would be our honor.”

Eggsy rocks back on his heels and smirks, “No need for all the pretty words, bruv, I already decided I was staying.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Harry breaks out in wide pleased grin, “Wonderful! Do you need to return home to retrieve any of your belongings?” The time was near four in the morning but Harry would go if Eggsy needed him to.

Eggsy hesitated, “That’s probably not a good idea. It’s a bit late anyway, innit? Vivienne went to bed already, she called Amelia to help her. I’ve got no clue where the wizard bloke went off to.” Harry blinks at the use of Lady Unwin’s first name so casually. The only person to do that in roughly the last twenty years was Lord Unwin.

“Yes, your right.” Harry peers around the empty hall deciding which room to set Eggsy up in, “Do you have a floor preference? We have three and a half.”

“A half?” Eggsy looks up.

“The attic, fully furnished. There used to be an artist in the family, she liked the light up there.”

“Ah…um, is it okay if I stay on the first?” Again the boy was on defense. Perhaps he wanted to be close to an exit?

Harry nodded, “Afraid of heights?”

A little chuckle escapes Eggsy and a secret knowing smirk quirked his pink lips, “No.”

There were no actual guest rooms on the first floor, though there were a couple of clean and simple servants quarters not being used close to the kitchens. Harry wasn’t completely okay with putting the boy there but it was only for one night until they could all agree on more suitable arrangements. The sickening sensation of something being terribly wrong didn’t come until Harry and Eggsy were near the end of the stairs. They descend the final step and the hairs on Harry’s arms stand up. 

Time stutters and above them the chandelier makes a sinister groan. The cable that had held the chandelier there since the 20’s snaps with a sharp cracking noise. Harry doesn’t think before he reacts, there is no time for thinking. He shoves Eggsy out of the way except the boy grabs ahold of Harry’s arm forcing Harry leap with him and landing heavily on the floor on top of Eggsy, narrowly missing the meteor of crystal that would have crushed them both. The crystal crashes into the ground splintering across the hard glossy wood. Harry feels pinpricks of burning where little shards flew into his legs and one into the side of his face, Eggsy appears to have no cuts but Harry was certain of some bruises—they had hit the ground very hard.

“Are you hurt?” Harry asks desperately, the two are breathing heavily and Eggsy’s eye are wide.

“Yeah.” He croaks in the most not okay way Harry has ever heard.

Harry realizes their rather compromising position and for one moment he doesn’t give a fuck about impropriety because he’s almost lost another fucking Unwin under his care and all he wants to do is hug Eggsy until the boy tells him to stop. He doesn’t. Rather he grins and hopes it doesn’t look too manic, “…I hope this doesn’t change your mind about staying.”

Eggsy blinks, “Not yet. But if you even think the word ‘drafty’ Harry, I swear down I’ll kick your arse.”

They were joking about it. Harry went along with that for now, but he was not amused. He would be checking the whole damned house top to bottom to ensure it was safe. A part of him, perhaps the part where his major control issues and protective instincts lived, felt like this accident wasn’t a fluke. But to think otherwise would be paranoid to the extreme wouldn’t it?

“Harry, what the hell did you do?!” Merlin’s voice echoed out from the top of the stairs. Harry’s head shot up and sure enough there was Merlin in all his robed night time glory, his hands were twitching.

Harry quickly, maybe guiltily, removed himself from Eggsy whilst helping the boy to his feet too. He looks to Eggsy then to Merlin, glancing briefly at the dangerous mess between them then said, “There was a draft.”

“Oh my fucking God Harry.”

 

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3rd chapter should be up before Halloween :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the support and comments, you guys are awesome! I was thinking this fic will probably be around five chapters long and maybe an epilogue, depends on how it goes.

Chapter 3

 

Over the course of the next week Eggsy appears to settle in. Harry helps him choose a room on the third floor facing east, Harry had asked him if he was sure because the room had two huge windows that would let the bright dawn in no matter the drapery. Strangely Eggsy didn’t mind that at all, quite the contrary. The moment the boy truly seems to relax the effects over the entire house are immediate. Carved pumpkins appear everywhere, on tables, the front porch, one even found its way to Harry’s stoop already lit and flickering happily. Those on the kitchen staff who were responsible for buying the groceries had no idea where the pumpkins came from. They were lying through their teeth and not very good lying at that, smiling as they denied. Eggsy was too charming for his own good. Halloween wasn’t as big when Harry was a child as it was today, or when Lee was a child for that matter, times have changed. Harry blamed television. It wasn’t that he particularly disliked Halloween he just found it somewhat vulgar. Death paraded around like a punchline, the petty vandalism, and the ridiculous things people would dress in these days, they all served Harry’s desire to ignore Halloween’s entire existence. He takes the pumpkin inside his room and sets it on his dresser anyway, lighting the little candle on most night.

Lady Unwin leaves for London a day after Eggsy officially begins to live with them, leaving Harry alone to deal with the sudden onslaught of Halloween decorations. Before departing she’d called Merlin and Eggsy into her study for a long talk without Harry. He’s hurt by his sudden exclusion from her confidence but he also feels validated in his suspicion that the woman was keeping something from him other than Lee’s fate. While they had done that Harry did indeed inspect the house for any dangers. Weak floors, hanging lights that swayed too much, anything. He found nothing. Unwin House was as sturdy has it ever was, the chandelier being the exception. Harry had the remains of the chandelier swept out in an hour but the cable that had apparently snapped he kept. The line did not break half way through as he’d thought but instead and broken somewhere through the ceiling. Harry didn’t have the time to go crawling between floors while Eggsy was there. Eggsy, who had only brought the clothes on his back and had no wish to return to his old residence anytime soon.

“Eventually.” He says when Harry asks him about it, “When things are better.” He doesn’t elaborate what “better” means and Harry knows when he’s being told to back off without actually being told. 

Harry finds clothes for Eggsy to wear until they can retrieve anything or buy new ones. Some belonged to Lee, some were “emergency” clothes kept in case a guest spilled something. Which happened surprisingly more often than anyone would think despite not having people over as frequently most families. With Eggsy there that would likely to change in the future—introductions would have to be made. 

For now Harry would settle for finding the boy for their first proper breakfast. Lady Unwin had insisted she and Eggsy bond the last few days, to help that and not suffocate Eggsy too badly around the old Unwin House the two had gone out and then supped at a few of the Lady’s closest friends’ homes. She at least had friends worthy of her. Suffice to say Harry was somewhat excited. He’s at Eggsy’s bedroom door knocking at 7 am sharp, Harry was too use to waking Lord and Lady Unwin up at the time and thinks nothing of it to do Eggsy the same. If he is still in bed Harry will simply help him dress and prepare for the day as he’s always done with those he’s served. His first quick succession of knocks receives no answer so Harry knocks again, three times and much louder. 

From the other side of the door someone knocks back, the door rattles from the ferocity of it. One, two, three, each punctuated by a few seconds of silence. Harry swallows and calls, “Eggsy?”

No answer. Harry tries the handle but its locked, he keeps a skeleton key to all the bedrooms in his breast pocket at all times however before he even gets the key out the door clicks and the handle gives allowing Harry to turn it and carefully swing the door open hoping Eggsy would be standing behind it…Eggsy was nowhere to be seen. Harry calls out once more just in case and it was an excuse to make some sort of noise. Still no Eggsy. The bed had been made, Harry could tell it had been put back together without a maid’s precision, and the boy’s shoes were gone. He looked around the empty room pressing his lips in a thin line. Houses creaked, all houses, sometimes a creak can sound like a knock. Harry leaves the room more quickly than he entered it feeling unbalanced. Feeling…maybe the smallest amount of dread.

Harry throws all his emotion into finding Eggsy which in hindsight was a lot easier than what his mind imagined it would be. All he had to do was stay on the first floor and listen for the music. The music and the voices singing loudly along with it, the male voice he hears is actually quite good. Eggsy is in the kitchens sitting on top of a counter with his legs swinging back and forth while an mp3 player attached to speakers cranks out a woman singing something about “bad girls” and “doing it well”. The cheeky little bugger was eating a tiny cake with…dear Lord, was that a bat drawn with icing on top?

Eggsy and the two cooks pitter pattering around him sing along with the words without noticing Harry standing in the doorway watching, “Live fast, die hard, bad girls do it well. Live fast, die hard, bad girls do it well!”

The cooks are sisters, Agatha and Mabel, both pleasantly round with the same curly hair always pinned perfectly into place. They were always trying to get Harry to eat more because “everybody wants their husband with some meat on his bones.” He told them he was gay and not likely to marry to which they responded with the same sentiment again then tried to get him to eat a whole Shepherd’s Pie. In Eggsy they found someone perfectly willing to eat whatever they handed him. Harry had absolutely no qualms with that at all, Eggsy could use some good meals. Agatha and Mabel cheerfully bounce around him readying a real breakfast, wiggling along with the lyrics in a way that makes Eggsy’s face absolutely beam with delight. 

Harry notices the only thing Eggsy is wearing of his own are the trainers, the black polo and grey slacks Harry had picked out. Harry was unused to not being involved with the Unwin’s daily routine. Amelia usually helped Lady Unwin with her dresses but Harry was always there when it came to her shoes and picking out what jewelry pieces she was going to wear right after he assisted the Lord Unwin into a finely cut suit or casual wear that was anything but. Of course Eggsy was not going to be keen on help getting dressed. Harry couldn’t help his disappointment nor the shame that quickly followed it. He coughs, interrupting the jovialities. Agatha and Mabel jump turning bright red, Eggsy sees him and grins.

“Mornin’, Harry.”

Eggsy’s grin is infectious and Harry grins right back, “Good morning, Eggsy. Hardly the balanced meal you have there.”

Eggsy’s spoon hovers over the mostly demolished bat and then he pointedly takes a massive bite staring Harry down while chews. Harry is not impressed. Lady Unwin as it turned out asked Harry to be in charge of the boy’s etiquette training before Eggsy was officially introduced into high society as the heir to the Unwin line and all its fortune as he did that Merlin was preparing all the proper DNA tests and certifications the late Lord Unwin’s Will would require. Honestly, Eggsy was perfect to Harry the way he was, Harry wouldn’t change a thing about the beautiful boy but there were rules to follow and Harry was going to have a lot of work ahead of him. He couldn’t fathom passing the responsibility off to someone else. Like everything else involving Eggsy, it was Harry’s honour to do. Eggsy felt like a second chance for Harry, in so many ways.

“Charming,” Harry deadpans, “Though in this house it’s proper to have a real breakfast before treats.”

Eggsy finally gets the giant bite down after Agatha absently hands him a glass of apple cider, “But it’s Halloween, Harry!”

“Not yet it isn’t. Now, are you going to join me in the dining room and let these fine ladies finish their work?” Harry says ignoring the muttering coming from Agatha and Mabel. The sister’s share a sly look between them, taking note of the way Harry’s expression softens when he looks at Eggsy and the way Eggsy looks at Harry like he was the sole reason the sun rose. The smile that forms on their faces makes Harry nervous.

Letting out a put-upon sigh Eggsy relents, “Yeah, alright.” He slides of the counter easily winking at the sister cooks as he follows Harry out.

They run into Amelia who offers to serve them, “Lady Unwin is out so I don’t have much to do. Go on, Harry, its fine.”

“You’re certain?”

“Of course, go on.” Amelia says smiling. Harry agrees, he had matters to discuss with Eggsy anyway which would be easier to communicate without having to also serve the croissants. 

Eggsy flops down in the first chair he sees and Harry frowns. He decides nit-picking first thing wasn’t going to do any good. Eggsy’s eyes wander the room for a moment like he usually does when he steps foot into a new room. Harry’s not a fan of the long white satin curtains framing the arched windows of the dining room, not because they were an eyesore they in fact let the light in and it was lovely however they tended to sway at any burst of air creating the impressions of something more…ghostly, and really, Harry did not need a reminder of anything of the sort. He is quite good at denial these days.

Amelia is soon there with trays of jams, butter, breads, and tea. Eggsy thanks her politely, it wasn’t expected during a large formal dinner to notice the servers but considering the company the thanks makes Harry smile.

“Manners maketh man. Do you know what that means, Eggsy?” Harry asks passing Eggsy the sugar for his tea.

Eggsy’s mouth turns down, “Don’t be an arse and tip your waitress?” 

Harry chuckles, “You’re not wrong. Manners are the foundations of being a gentleman. And you, Eggsy, are going to be a gentleman.”

Eggsy gives him a wry look, “Are you going to teach me to talk all posh, like in My Fair Lady?”

“My Fair Lady? Dear boy, you are full of surprises aren’t you? One’s accent has nothing to do with being a gentleman, its one’s actions. To paraphrase Hemingway, true nobility has nothing to do with being superior to your fellow man but being superior to your former self. But otherwise, yes, like in My Fair Lady. Manners ae the foundations nobility.” Amelia brings out the main course of blood sausage and poached eggs as Harry adds, “ Which is why some like Charlie Hesketh, while being a complete arse, is still respected. He knows how to conduct himself in social situations among his peers.”

Amelia nearly knocks over a carafe of orange juice the same time Eggsy barks out a sharp laugh, luckily Eggsy catches it in time.

“Oh, forgive me, sir.” Amelia tells Eggsy adjusting the juice.

Eggsy smiles, “Don’t beat yourself up about it, its ok!” Amelia regards him oddly for a short moment then smiles in return belatedly.

“Enjoy, your breakfast sir. And you Harry.” Amelia does a shallow curtsy and leaves Harry to his “lecture”.

Throughout breakfast Harry instructs Eggsy on everything on silverware placement to the proper way to hold a tea cup. Clothes, honestly the part Harry was looking forward to the most because there was nothing like a well-tailored suit, was planned for later. Eggsy was incredibly clever. Harry only needed to tell him or show him something once and the boy retained it easily. The two were almost finished eating when Harry began to become worried. Eggsy is growing paler, his pupils are dilated, and he asks absently if Harry felt hot. The Unwin House was never warm.

“Eggsy, are you feeling alright? You look unwell.”

Eggsy furrows his brow, “I’m fine.” He looks at Harry then promptly passes out. Harry is up so fast the chair he’s sitting in goes clattering to the floor behind him, he’s certain he’s broken a leg and doesn’t care in the slightest, he carefully scoops Eggsy up before the boy can tilt over. 

Eggsy comes-to halfway to his room in Harry’s arms, soon he can feel the cool fabric of his bedsheets beneath him and a flannel filled with ice pressed to his temple. He can’t control the trembling in his body, “Harry?”

“I’m here, my boy, I’m right beside you. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Harry is ready with a garbage bin the moment Eggsy starts to wretch. Every time a visit to a doctor is suggested Eggsy vehemently refuses between gasps. Harry is with Eggsy for hours, eventually there’s nothing left inside his stomach to throw up. Agatha and Mabel throw out everything they cooked for him in fear Eggsy is suffering food poisoning. Amelia keeps Harry stocked with fresh water for Eggsy but the boy doesn’t even want to try to swallow anything. 

Eggsy exhausts himself into a fitful sleep. Harry watches over him throughout the day until the fitfulness calms and his colour improves. It would seem whatever illness had stricken the boy was lifting, still Harry holds his smaller hand in his own just as the sky darkens outside. Harry unintentionally dozes, when he wakes Eggsy is looking down at their intertwined hands in wonderment. Pulling away never really crosses Harry’s mind, Eggsy makes no move away either. Eggsy appears significantly better. Harry was so grateful.

A weak smile forming on Eggsy’s face feels like a weight lifted from Harry. His voice was raspy when he spoke “No need for that face, bruv. I’ve had worse hangovers.” Eggsy is still somewhat out of it, his face crumples in confusion and stares past Harry altogether, “Kinda feels like that time I was drug—” He stops himself, he hadn’t meant to say that.

“Feels like what, Eggsy?” Harry presses suddenly worried about more than Eggsy’s current state.

In one slow blink Eggsy’s face shuts down. It’s a terrifying coldness reflected there in his normally soft expression, “Nothing.”

“Eggsy, I—”

“Harry. I said it was nothing. I’m feeling better now…thank you, you should get some sleep. I’ll be fine.” He did not look fine, he was scared and definitely not over his illness. Eggsy pulls himself up further on the bed letting go of Harry. His dark blonde hair is messy and his clothes rumpled, though he did indeed look better than what he did hours ago. Not well enough for Harry.

“It was probably just a 24-hour flu or something. People get those, right? I’m fine, you look like shite go to bed.” Eggsy continues barely glancing at Harry.

It wasn’t Harry’s place to refuse an obvious order given to him by an Unwin, thinking about doing so went against his grain. Despite that he feels rooted to the floor. Harry tries to find the right words, he remembers being eloquent yet now his mouth and large vocabulary utterly fail him. For a moment Harry had forgotten. Who Eggsy was and who he was. Eggsy wasn’t his, wouldn’t ever be, Harry steels himself and falls back on his position. 

“As you wish, sir.” A veneer of polite obedience felt so wrong directed at Eggsy. The boy snapped his attention to Harry at the change of tone, he opens his mouth to say something and then quickly shut it.

“I’ll send Amelia to check on you periodically, if that is agreeable, sir.”

“I, um,” Eggsy stammers helplessly, “Harry, that’s fine. I didn’t mean for you to—please, stop talking like that. I am fine, I promise.”

Harry heaves a sigh, “You never have to tell me anything you don’t want to, Eggsy. However, if you do ever want to I will always be here to listen. Never be afraid of telling me anything.”

“Harry?”

“Yes, Eggsy?”

“I think I need the bin again.” Eggsy says so fast it sounds like one word.

“Oh!”

So maybe Eggsy wasn’t as ready to bounce back as fast he expected. For the most part he just gags on air, and then he groans and buries his face in the pillows. Harry’s able to distinguish Eggsy’s next words only because he was a man used to waking people up extremely early in the morning, “I’m sorry for being an arse, but, Harry, you do need to sleep too. I’m ok, you should go to bed. Please. I’ll call if I need anything.” Impossibly lower and more obscured by pillow feathers Harry hears, “Like my fucking dignity back.”

Merlin’s frame darkens Eggsy’s bedroom door, ipad perpetually in hand, and he’s ultimately the only reason Harry agrees to go to bed. Merlin promises to take Harry’s place at Eggsy’s bedside, he agrees with minor grumbling about babysitting. The “wizard” has always been stand-offish but Eggsy had managed to sneak in right past Merlin’s, well, everything. Similarly to Harry, Merlin saw the future in Eggsy. He also saw when things were not right. Of course the house wasn’t “normal” and the shite happening to Eggsy since he moved into the house wasn’t normal either, however Merlin didn’t believe they were the same types of not normal. Merlin senses something fowl afoot that has nothing to do with the spirits walking the halls of the Unwin House. Did he, lover of technology and follower of the International Space Station on Instagram, believe in ghosts? Damn right he did. He’s been living in the Unwin House too long to believe differently, Harry was just an obstinate git unwilling to see the truth right in front of his eyes. Merlin side-eyes Eggsy, he didn’t just mean about the paranormal either. A comfortable silence settles between the two. Quickly enough Eggsy is snoozing quieter than he’s been all day, he falls asleep to Merlin softly tapping on his ipad. Merlin hits the lights as soon as he hears soft snoring making the only light in the room the eerie blue emanating from his screen. He sits alone next to Eggsy in the near complete dark and he’s prepared to do it as long as it takes, he doesn’t mind. 

Downstairs Harry tries his best to go to sleep himself and fails miserably at it. His mind is on Eggsy, always and forever on Eggsy, and the ungodly cold in his room doesn’t help. He contemplates texting Merlin to check in one last time. Then he contemplates having to buy new mobile because Merlin might very well snap Harry’s in half if he bothered him once more. Harry wraps himself in every blanket in the room and squeezes his eyes shut. For some reason his heart his hammering in his chest, he can hear the thudding in his own ears. Harry starts to counts them. Time ticks by, minutes turn to hours and the thudding slows. The cold doesn’t bother Harry anymore nor does he feel particularly tired anymore. Harry opens his eyes to a world of black and white. The only light in his room is the lit jack o’ lantern, its light seems too bright for the tiny candle inside it and its grin seems sharper than he remembered. Harry is more concerned about his sudden colour blindness.

Harry climbs out of bed and rubs his eyes furiously. His favourite robe kept close was a rich red now the robe was a deep black, Harry pulls it on out of habit and the added sense of security the fabric provided. He thinks perhaps spots of colour are coming back when he feels a pressure on his shoulder. Gripping him tightly is the weathered hand of a man, the Unwin signet ring worn on the skeletal pinkie finger belongs to the freshly buried Thomas Unwin. Harry spins around, his breath is caught in his throat. There is no one there. Gooseflesh breaks out over Harry’s skin and he flips the switch to the lights in his room. The lights burn bright as the sun before flickering out entirely. Harry scrambles to find the torch he keeps somewhere in his nightstand. More difficult to do than thought in a dark world made up of shades of grey and deep shadows. Harry knocks over half of his belongings before he finally finds it and switches the torch on, that the fallen objects made no sound getting battered around doesn’t register with Harry yet. He’s focusing on evening his breaths. 

The torch’s light is an immediate relief; with it on Harry can almost believe his mind is playing tricks on him. He feels compelled to leave his quarters to search out Eggsy, or anyone else. Anyone at all. Before he can move his bedroom door opens itself in a blast of wind. A long dark hallway stretches out from the doorway, a hallway Harry know does not exist. He hears a voice calling from the end of the corridor, God, it sounds like Lee as a child. Lee’s calling for Harry and what could Harry do but follow? Harry runs. He knows the voice can’t belong to Lee, he knows the greyscale world is all wrong, but he cannot stop his feet from going forward. The hallway ends at the foot of the grand staircase, at the top Harry can see the outline of a boy no older than maybe six the same hair colour as Lee hunched over looking at something intently. Cautiously Harry goes up, each step feels sticky beneath his bare feet.

“Lee?”

The boy jerks around, “Who’re you?” He asks. The boy is not Lee, he had many of Lee’s features from his hair to his…it suddenly dawns on Harry who the boy was. 

“I’m Harry, and your name, young man?”

“Eggsy.” 

Harry knew what the boy was going to say still the name sends him stumbling backward. Eggsy is fiddling with some sort of military medallion in his small hands. Harry recognizes it as the Royal Marines medal of honour. 

Young Eggsy blinks at Harry’s shock then his eyes slide past Harry, behind him and says, “Hey, dad.”

Harry whips around and he’s standing face to face with Lee. Lee grown, Lee in military fatigues smeared in in ashes and blood, the red of Lee’s blood is the first colour Harry sees since he’s opened his eyes. Lee stares him in the face, he looks frustrated, no, furious, and without warning screams. Screams so loud the floors shakes beneath Harry’s feet. Lee screams, Harry’s heart breaks…and then…then Harry wakes up.

Harry sits up in his bed and switches on the lamp on his nightstand marking the time, 3 a. m. Officially Halloween. Sweat pours down his face, Harry wipes at it absently. It’s a long minute before he notices the jack o’ lantern Eggsy surely made smashed to pieces on his floor. At the center of the mess is the little candle sitting unharmed. The flame of the candle burns brightly which perhaps wouldn’t be too weird except Harry hadn’t lit it before he went to bed last night.

 

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of patience it requires to update a fic on mobile is ungodly. Merlin isn't the only one with the desire to snap phones in half. Hopefully I can get chap 4 done in a few days.
> 
> I'm thewinterdaredevil on tumblr, come talk Marvel and Kingsman with me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mobile updating is still the worse thing in the world...

Chapter 4

 

“It was a warning.”

“Merlin, I really don’t have time for this right now. Lady Unwin will be home any minute.”

“If you’re going to tell me your dreams like a thirteen year old girl, Harry, I’m going to give you my opinion on them.”  
“Your opinion is shite.”

“I’ve seen every episode of Ghost Adventures, I know what I’m talking about.”

Harry stops ironing to level an incredulous look at Merlin, “You can’t be serious.”

“As the grave.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re burning a hole through that shirt.”

Harry jerks the iron off, sure enough there are singe marks slightly smoking on the crisp white dress shirt. Harry frowns, damn it all, it was one of Eggsy’s. Merlin makes an exasperated sound, or maybe it was disgusted, Harry has a hard time telling the difference between the two most days. Merlin gives up because Harry was correct, The Lady Unwin was being driven up the driveway as they spoke. They both abandoned their current tasks to meet her at the door.

In the few days she’d been gone The Lady Unwin has become gaunt. She looks far too pale to Harry, and there are deep shadows beneath her eyes. Bluntly she looks like death. Harry retrieves her bags from the boot of the car and he’s back through the door the same time Eggsy is bounding down the stairs three at a time. Lady Unwin lights up at the sight of him, Harry cringes at the cap on Eggsy’s head that the boy doesn’t take off in The Lady’s presence. They hadn’t gotten to hats yet, she doesn’t seem to mind but Harry finds himself mentally scheduling a little talk about it. Even if Eggsy made them look…rather adorable.

“Thank you, Mr. Hart,” Lady Unwin says as he passes by intent on bringing her things to her room himself, “When you’re done, I require your presence. You and Merlin as well, Eggsy. There’s something I need to discuss with all of you.”

“You mean—” Eggsy starts concerned.

“Yes.”

“You wouldn’t like a rest first, m’am?”

Lady Unwin smiles, not the lovely turn of lips when she saw Eggsy, something much sadder, “My loyal Mr. Hart, I’ll be having enough of that soon enough. Far too much and far too soon for my liking.”

Harry wants to ask what the cryptic words mean but he’s waved off. Strangely, Eggsy looks just as sad as his grandmother. After he deposits the luggage in the master bedroom, he has Amelia return everything to their proper places. Upon his return Harry leads the group to the sunroom in the back of the house. Today there wasn’t much in the way of sunshine, however, their Halloween was suitably gloomy. Technically it was a conservatory meant for giving plants the best chance at life. The house did not treat plants very well, most things inside the house withered in a few days. A few small trees were still standing bare and gnarled in the corners. Instead the room, made completely of glass on one side as well as the ceiling, housed a beautiful cast iron table and chairs set where The Lady often sat for tea in the afternoon. The view they were gifted with consisted of everything downhill from them, mostly the autumnal trees in their riot of colour but also the bulk of the cemetery could be seen, beautiful too in its own way.

The view of the vast steep decline from the sunroom has Eggsy’s rapt attention from the moment they step through the doors, “That is sick.”

Lady Unwin moves to stand beside him and Eggsy stands a straighter, “When Thomas and I were married I was nervous of this room at first. I felt as if this this whole thing was going to roll down the hill…it looked so fragile to me. Nothing ever happened, not a single crack.”

“I like it.” Eggsy says peering down fearlessly.

Smiling, Lady Unwin replies simply, “Good.”

Harry seats Lady Unwin at the head of the table then Eggsy, Merlin, and himself last. The Lady appears pensive. Harry knows she was never one for shooting her mouth off, she always was very careful with her words. That in mind, it was something of a shock for Harry hearing her bluntly state, “I have cancer.”

“But you don’t—” Harry starts only to be cut-off by the Lady raising her hand.

“Merlin, Eggsy, you both already knew this. Harry I am sorry once again, for keeping vital information from you. More important matters had to be dealt with. My grandson for one. What none of you know is that I am not receiving treatment. There would be no point and I’m too far gone for the chemo to make a difference now.”

Eggsy’s voice cracks, “You mean…”

“Yes, my child, I am dying. I was at the hospital while I was away. The doctors there gave me months, if I’m lucky.”

“But…I just got you.” Eggsy sounds so lost.

Harry’s gripping the edges of the table so hard his knuckles are turning white. A man could only take so damned much in so short of time. Yet he was expected to take it all in stride, the indomitable always loyal Harry Hart. He was supposed to just shut up and help people into their coats. Pour the tea, make appointments, but he was always more than that in the Unwin family, wasn’t he? Regular valets didn’t sit in on family discussions about death and inheritance, the Unwins had always treated him as something more. He was there at the table because he was allowed to feel the devastation that had his eyes prickling with the heat of unshed tears. He was allowed, even with that assurance Harry knew he would be of no help to those who needed him if he crumbled.

“And I just got you, Eggsy. But I am so enormously grateful to be given this time with you. To be able to meet my grandson and see the person he is. I couldn’t be more proud.” The Lady says as she takes Eggsy’s hands between her own.

Eggsy looks down, “You probably wouldn’t be, if you knew the things I’ve done.”

“Oh, I know exactly what you’ve done.” Lady Unwin tells him and Eggsy looks, frankly, terrified, “Let me tell you this and remember it. It not the choices we make, it’s the reasons we make them. You had a good reason for them?”

“Two good reasons, actually.” Eggsy says unflinching.

“Then there you are. We can’t always make good choices but we can always have good reasons. And I couldn’t have asked for a better grandson, I know you’ll do this family proud. Unfortunately there are some formalities to get out of the way before we do anything.” Lady Unwin adds with a final reassuring pat to Eggsy’s hands, “Our time we shall assume is short and thus we are going to have to thrust you into the thick of it as soon as possible. I’m planning to make your official introduction as the Unwin heir in two weeks.”

Harry and Eggsy both blanch, “That is rather soon.” Harry says running the logistics in his head. Of course Lady Unwin wouldn’t want to wait. Every time Harry looked at her he saw a ticking clock, it wasn’t fair.

“Don’t look so scared, lad. Presenting you will be a long-winded affair to be sure but it’s not like your some debutante from the old days looking for a husband, this is more of ‘fuck you’ to some very specific people.” Merlin tells Eggsy serene as you please while Harry’s indignation at Merlin’s choice of vocabulary in the Lady’s company turns his face an unflattering colour. The Lady on the other hand doesn’t bat an eyelash.

“The Heskeths?” Eggsy guesses correctly. They all nod in varying states of lip-curling.

“I am aware of the time-table, but I’ll be damned if I let a Hesketh own this house. The Mortons have donated a space for the presentation, it would be tasteless to host another event here so soon after the funeral. To start, Merlin, prepare the necessary documents for the announcement and you Mr. Hart, will be taking Eggsy to Saville Row today. He’s in need of appropriate attire for the evening.”

“I would love to, m’am.” Harrys says. Patterns and colours that would flatter Eggsy jump to Harry’s mind, he doubted there was anything that wouldn’t look good on the boy.

Harry knew what Lady Unwin was doing, giving him a task to focus on exactly like when Lord Unwin died, and when she had to reveal Lee’s death to him. Harry loves going to Saville Row too, the tailors there knew him by name, it felt rather like a gift. An “I’m sorry for keeping so much from you.” Harry couldn’t care less about the secrets anymore, all he wanted was to be able to fix it all like he used to be able to do. Cancer was not a torn dress or tea at midnight because Lord Unwin was being neglectful.

Eggsy is not excited for their trip as Harry is, “Couldn’t we get something out of the closet, here?”

“That would never do. You’re going to be wearing something made for you, no arguments.” Lady Unwin chastises. 

“Whatever you say, gran.”

The Lady beams radiantly and it would’ve made it easy for all three of the men at the table to forget the sickness that vowed to take her from them. She has Harry take Eggsy out in the just after noon, Eggsy is not as agreeable with Harry as he was with his grandmother. He insists any shirt lying around will do, that he didn’t need to be taken shopping, and “this is a shite way to spend Halloween, Harry.” The boy only stops his irate muttering when they start to cruise past children running around in costume. Eggsy counts ghosts, monsters, witches, even a shiny-faced David Cameron in a suit that was baggy on the little boy running around in it. The Cameron costume alone made the trip entirely worth it for Eggsy.

Their driver drops them off at the door to Harry’s personal favourite shop, Kingsman, the tailors there had outfitted every Unwin since the second world war at one point or another. Harry himself had splurged on a few fine suits from Kingsman, in his humble opinion they were the absolute best. A small elderly man in a plaid suit welcomes Harry with a warm handshake and offers one to Eggsy who takes it apparently surprised he was noticed at all. Eggsy leans in close eyeing the countless fabrics and displays, he’s curious though he doesn’t touch anything. His hands hover over folds of silk practically begging to run his fingers across them. It’s not until the tailor, Wesley, offers to show him the quality of the silk that he actually does. His cheeks turn pink after a mere few seconds and he quickly draws his hand away.

“Are you ready for your measurements, sir?” Wesley asks.

Eggsy blinks, “Um…”

“It’s alright, Eggsy. We just go into the fitting room and this good man takes your numbers, this will be a bespoke suit—measurements are necessary.” Oh is Harry jealous of that little old man and his bloody tape measure. Not in an openly malicious way, he wasn’t so petty, it was in the way that had his fingers twitching slightly.

Eggsy tentatively follows Harry and Wesley into the fitting room, his usual fluid grace is stiff in the close confines of the room. A natural sort of defensive glare settles on his face that only intensifies after he’s asked to remove his coat. He doesn’t pull away when Wesley measures the width of his shoulders but Wesley must feel his gaze and picks up the speed of his work considerably. Harry is watching just as intently for different reasons. Admittedly it’s hard for Harry not to look. Eggsy catches his gaze in the mirror and for a long excruciating moment Harry feels like he’s been caught. Eggsy licks his lips and all Harry can do is stare, a flush creeps up his neck ending at the tips of his ears. The boy’s lips are a pretty shade of pink and moist, Harry wonders what it would be like to kiss them.

Weakly Harry excuses himself out of the room, he ignores the flash of panic in Eggsy’s face at being left alone. He hates himself for causing that look. Harry swears to himself to make up for it, he couldn’t have stayed in there another moment without making an utter fool of himself and rendering the whole occasion unbearably awkward. Well, more so. Harry scrubs his face, the only thing that keeps him from banging his head against the wall is that Eggsy would hear it.

Twenty brutal minutes pass before Eggsy pops out of the fitting room still looking vaguely uncomfortable but he smiles more genuinely at Wesley. The wispy white-haired man must have won him over, he was in fact charming in his own sly way. Hesitantly Eggsy asks Harry if he’d help choose the fabrics, Harry jumps on the opportunity and his eagerness puts Eggsy more at ease. When it’s all said and done and Wesley describes to him what his bespoke suit was going to look like, Eggsy is much more interested if not almost excited about his prospective new attire though he tries to hide it. Wesley assures him the garments will be completed before the event.

“Uh, Harry? Do you think we could make one more stop while we’re here?” Eggsy asks as they take their leave from the shop.

“Whatever you like, Eggsy.” Harry smiles down at him.

Harry is surprised when Eggsy instructs their driver to the estates. Harry had never been there before and had no idea how the flat Eggsy had lived in looked like. It appeared to be quite a lot of people living close together to Harry, too much concrete and too much grey. Their car received some curious looks by the people roaming the streets and more than a few hostile ones. They park across the street with the windows rolled up and wait.

Harry is ready to inquire why they were sitting there rather creepily watching people go by through tinted windows just as everything about Eggsy changes. He presses his forehead to the window, his eyes are on a woman possibly in her forties holding the hand of a very small little girl walking down the sidewalk with grocery bags heading right for Eggsy’s old flat. The woman’s clothes are too thin for the weather and she looks absolutely exhausted, the little girl on the other hand is bundled up so tight she as a slight wobble to her walk and she’s pulling who was probably her mother along with boundless energy. She’s waving a fairy wand around with her free hand, her laughs sounds like something akin to little bells chiming.

“That’s my Mum,” Eggsy says sounding pained, “and my Daisy. She’s my sister. She’s Dean’s but…she’s mine too.”

“Dean?”

“My stepdad.” The obvious love written all over Eggsy’s face is replaced with cold hatred at the mention of the man’s name. “He’s the scum of the Earth, he is. Don’t know how he helped make something as perfect as Daisy.”

“She looks like a lovely girl.” Harry says.

Eggsy lights up, “She’s the best, and so smart. Daisy’s going to be a fucking genius, swear down. Sorry, you don’t want to hear me bang on about a five-year old.”

“On the contrary, I would love to hear more about her. Eggsy, you are aware you can have them stay with us? Accommodations can easily be made. Lady Unwin would be quite interested in meeting them as well.”

“Ain’t that simple, bruv.” Eggsy sighs watching his sister drag his mum through their front door, “Mum won’t just leave. I gotta prove to her I can take care of them, ain’t her fault, Dean’s done…damage. I’m coming back for them but not until I know she’ll come with me. I don’t trust what Dean would do if he found out I tried taking them off somewhere.”

“Eggsy,” a fierce protectiveness coils in Harry, “What exactly has Dean done?” They had enough money to arrange a police inquiry, have them watch the man at the very least.

Eggsy presses his lips together and frowns. The boy’s family is out of sight now so he slouches back into the car seat, he pointedly says nothing. Eggsy was stubborn, maybe more so than Lee ever was, and he was loyal. Loyalty was an honourable quality to be sure however there were people in the world that would see that in a boy like Eggsy and twist it, manipulate it for their own means knowing full well he would never say a word. Harry got the distinct impression Eggsy’s stepfather was one of those people and completely unworthy of any considerations Eggsy gave him.

“Listen, Harry, I’ve never grassed anyone up, not starting now. Let’s just go home, yeah? Gran wanted to have tea this evening.”

Harry had no intention of letting this go, at the moment he had no choice. He caves and directs the driver back to the Unwin House. It doesn’t take much to get Eggsy back into talking about how his little sister was literally an angel and did she mention she was smart? Because she was so smart. 

At the house Lady Unwin did indeed request Eggsy for tea, they sat in the drawing room while the late staff waited on them. The Lady had Harry take some time for himself, he tells her he’ll use it to arrange invitations and he plans on doing that. On his way to his quarter Harrys runs into Amelia carrying up all the necessary cleaning supplies for the fireplace in the master bedroom, the task could easily be called the most hated among the staff. They did it in rotation usually, Amelia did not look happy about taking her turn. She doesn’t spare Harry a glance walking by.

First thing Harry does in his own privacy is lock himself in his bathroom. He fills the wash basin to splash his face with cold water trying very hard not to give in to the need to cry. He was losing everyone who’d ever been important to him and to top it all off he might be in love with someone he had no business being in love with. Tears did not fall, Harry very much wished he could say that was because of his own deep well of personal strength, really it was due to his mind being unable to focus. He blinks and all he could see was the stairs from his dream, his nightmare, he remembers what Merlin had said. Maybe Merlin had been right.

Maybe transformed into certainly, the idea forced into reality under the aid of a cutting headache shooting through Harry’s skull. He gasps clutching his head, his dream runs on fast-forward inside his mind, too quick to really follow. Harry looks up into the mirror over the basin, Lee is there standing behind him close and angry. Harry jumps back and nearly slips on the bathroom floor. Panic floods him, one thought dominates over the fear, he has to find Eggsy. Has to get to the grand staircase or something terrible was going to happen. Right. Now.

Harry runs. He feels cold from the inside out. He rounds the last corner to the main hall and hears Eggsy yell, Harry’s legs move inhumanely faster. Harry doesn’t see Eggsy falling down the entire stairs but he’s there just in time for the boy’s body to crash into his own. Eggsy groans and starts cursing up a whirlwind of colorful expletives, some Harry’s never even heard of, Harry can’t really appreciate the creativity with the pounding in his head. He reaches up to rub at an odd warmth on his cheek, a look at his fingers reveals blood not his own. Realizing Eggsy isn’t rolling off him Harry pushes his own pain away to catalog anything wrong with his boy.

Eggsy’s lip is bleeding, cut on impact, most of his body landed right on top of Harry all except his left arm which is bent in a way that is definitely not natural and definitely extremely painful. How Eggsy is not screaming bloody murder Harry and no idea. Harry is achingly careful maneuvering them both to sitting positions, Eggsy is cradling his arm.

“It’s broken.” The boy says far too calmly. His breath is strained.

“How do you know?” Harry asks far less calmly.

Eggsy winces, “Past experience?”

Harry files that away for later (there would be a later), “What happened? And I am taking you to the fucking hospital this time.”

“I think…I think I was pushed? I was getting my mobile for gran to look at some pics of Daisy and I just turned to walk and down a felt a shove, then there you were. I didn’t see anyone. I think I smelled smoke?” Eggsy looks at him concerned, “Are you alright?”

“Am I—Eggsy your bloody arm is broken!”

“Had worse.”

“I don’t care!” Harry had never found another human being so frustrating in his entire life, and he was friends with Merlin. “Can you stand? I‘ll call a car around.”

Harry helps Eggsy to his feet checking the boy over in case he’s missed anything else. A medal hangs around the boy’s neck on a chain Harry had noticed before but never questioned, it must have come from beneath his shirt in the fall. The Royal Marines Medal of Honour, Harry’s seen that exact medallion before. A chill creeps up on him making him shiver. He gets to Eggsy’s back and finds smudges the size of two human hands in ash marking his shirt. He was no Sherlock bloody Holmes but he was no idiot either, he knows exactly who to blame for this and perhaps for a whole lot more. Harry informs Lady Unwin loosely what happened before ushering Eggsy into the car, an Eggsy with much less fight in him than usual.

Before climbing in himself for the second time that day Harry dials his mobile, “Merlin? We need to talk about Amelia.”

 

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amelia!?  
> Yes, Amelia. I'm sorry, I found her three seconds very lovely in the movie before she faked her own death.   
> You should have listened to the ghosts Harry, Jennifer Love-Hewitt you are not.
> 
> All the thanks in the world for the comments and kudos! Sorry for being such a slow updater.   
> Next chapter: Revelations and Eggsy all spiffy in his bespoke suit.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 

The logistics of locking someone in a linen closet was not as complicated as Merlin previously believed. He’d imagined weaving a complicated lie involving a sheet emergency, really all he had to do was loom more than usual and shove at the opportune moment. Ironically just what Amelia did to Eggsy, in this case there was no threat of death. Unless she was severely allergic to cotton, she wasn’t, Merlin had run the background check on her himself. Which was a part of a reason he felt so much responsibility, but people change and sometimes it was for the worse. He couldn’t have known how bad Amelia would go. He was named after a wizard not a fucking psychic. He also wasn’t the type of man to go around shoving women into linen closets. However they couldn’t go calling the police without proof, Merlin was currently belly down on the floor in Amelia’s room with a broom digging out industrial-strength bolt cutters from beneath her bed to remedy just that. Bolt cutters that appeared perfect for say, dismantling a giant chandelier? She also keeps an interesting collection of medications, too interesting for Merlin’s tastes. Merlin surmises Amelia planned the first two attempts on Eggsy’s life, by the last she’d grown desperate implying she knew more than she’d been privy to.

Climbing to his feet Merlin dusts off his pants and shakes his head. Amelia had probably been listening on the Unwin’s private talks. Peeping through keyholes and ears pressed to walls, it was all so Downton Abbey. It would almost be amusing if she hadn’t succeeded in hurting the boy in each and every attempt. That would not stand. When Merlin told Lady Unwin the details Harry had spared her she had some very unladylike things to say. If Harry had been there Merlin was certain his brain would have run out his ears. Really Merlin wasn’t surprised in the least, stature wasn’t the only thing Eggsy and his grandmother shared. He’d had to make more than few right hooks to some very deserving recipients disappear over the years. Eggsy and Lady Unwin were also alike in that they seemed perfectly calm, polite, and soft-spoken until just the right prod was applied. The Lady was less prone into giving in to her temper than her grandson but it was definitely still there. Amelia was lucky she was just locked in a closet. 

Merlin rings Harry at the hospital and they arrange for a blood test to be done while they set Eggsy’s arm. All kinds of things could be accomplished in a timely manner when a wing of the very same hospital they were in bore the Unwin family name. Faint traces of poison were still in Eggsy’s system. The exact type would be hard to match, though the results indicated a cocktail of sorts, enough to damn Amelia in Merlin’s book. He has the hospital hold the results for the police and doesn’t tamper much with the evidence he finds at the mansion. 

The questions are saved until Harry returns with Eggsy in tow. One with a brand new cast and the other in need of a stiff drink. Harry attempts to steer Eggsy to a comfy chair in the sitting room only to have him blow right past it to the awaiting Merlin. The boy stops short of a hug but he does give the man a winning smile, Merlin returns it after blinking dumbly for a brief few seconds.

Eggsy isn’t very perturbed by almost dying multiple times citing, “Happens more often than you’d think, bruv.”

Harry gapes, “We are seriously having a talk.”

“Not from someone who poured me tea though,” Eggsy continues ignoring Harry, “That’s new. And fucking rude.”

They can hear Amelia kicking at the door a floor above them. Every rattle has Harry grinding his teeth, he’s never felt this type of fury before nor has he been so completely betrayed by anyone before. Amelia and Harry weren’t the closest of friends; they never really got there despite working for years together. That was often the way in large staffs. Those who worked in the same areas tended to stick together and just like the lords and ladies of the peerage themselves they had tiers of relative importance. The closer to the family the more clout one had inside the house. Amelia was head of the cleaning staff and sometimes stepped in for different areas when Harry was otherwise occupied beyond that their relationship was nothing but pleasantries and status reports.

Amelia’s ruckus quiets down and Merlin looks up speculatively, he probably should have left a magazine in there with her. Then again she tried pushing their boy down a staircase. And had a chandelier fall on him. And poisoned him. As Eggsy said, fucking rude.

“Harry,” Merlin says, “It’s time we fetched a chair.”

“Fucking hell,” Eggsy murmurs, “You could make ordering a burrito sound ominous.”

Harry leans in conspiratorially, “You should have been here when the internet went out, Merlin had those poor sods weeping over the phone in five minutes flat.”

Eggsy laughs, the sound dies quickly when he realizes they were going to question Amelia. Eggsy had done plenty of fucking stupid shite over vindictiveness, they had it coming really. This time it felt weird. He was angry sure, not the kind of angry that made him steal cars, the kind he had no idea what to do with. I was not the kind that made him feel particularly wrathful either. True to their word Harry and Merlin fetched a chair then sat Amelia in it right in the middle of the corridor to ask the most important question. The one Eggsy really wanted to know.

“Why?” Harry asks in an icy tone, “You’ve been with us so long. You were a trusted part of this house.”

Amelia glares, “I’m a servant in a tomb.”

“Tell us how you really feel.” Merlin’s voice drips with sarcasm.

Amelia’s skin turns ashen, she closes her eyes, “I have seen so many…unexplainable, awful things here. I’ve made my hands raw scrubbing these floors on the whims of those old…,”

Harry interrupts her, “You could have left anytime you wanted.”

“With what money!? Where would I go? He offered me a chance to get out of the shadow of this damned house, how could I not take it?”

“He?” Eggsy inquires curiously. Amelia hasn’t looked him in the face the whole time and it hasn’t gone unnoticed by Eggsy. She still can’t and Harry has to ask Eggsy’s question again more forcefully.

“Who are talking about, Amelia? Who put you up to this?”

“What? Is the great Harry Hart the only one allowed to fancy someone above their station?” Her words are meant to bite. Harry tries to keep his feelings from showing on his face but Eggsy is too sharp. Eggsy had lived in a household where reading the wrong emotion could have dire consequences, most things didn’t escape him. Most things, not all things.

Eggsy looks between the two worried, “What the fuck are you on about?” He thinks he’s missed something and blames his arm. The hospital anesthesia is wearing off and it’s really fucking distracting. That’s what you get when you refuse a prescription for the heavy-hitting painkillers because you thought you were a tough fucker. Eggsy could take pain, he couldn’t take Merlin and Harry sharing weird fucking looks over his head like he isn’t there.

“Oi!” Eggsy waves his good hand, “How about you get to telling us who the fuck you’re working for, yeah?” His patience was wearing thin. Jack Bauer had shite like this handled in one scene.

“A confession will make the police go easier on you, Amelia.” Merlin says, “You are going to jail, now is the time to decide how long you’re willing to stay in prison and if the blame is yours alone.”

Amelia folds her hands in her lap and considers. Her eyes are glassy and Eggsy can’t help but feel the tiniest bit sorry for her. He’s known people who’ve done worse for the promise of a better life. Doesn’t mean he was about to forgive and forget though, he wasn’t the forgive and forget type. Amelia finally looks at Eggsy, she looks sorry too and oh so defeated.

“We didn’t love each other.” Amelia finally says in a breath, “It was about the money he would get, but we were…fond. Though he never looked at me the way Eggsy looks at you Harry, or you him—”

Eggsy and Harry look at the other with matching flusters both speaking in nonsensical stutters involving mostly “what!?”. Merlin rubs his temples, because honestly, not the time. He clears his throat capturing Amelia’s attention, “The name.”

She takes another deep breath, “Hesketh, Charlie Hesketh.”

Simultaneously Merlin and Harry say with absolute sincerity, “I’m going to kill him.”

“He knows the Lady is dying, knows Eggsy is taking everything away from him. He wouldn’t hurt his own father for his proper inheritance, but a chav boy who happened to have the right last name?” Amelia shrugs then stares at her shoes, “Charlie was going to bring me up in the world you see. Be someone who wasn’t invisible.”

“None of that is worth a life.” Merlin states.

“Not to you.” Amelia sneers.

Harry, still buzzing from Eggsy’s intense gaze, asks Merlin, “Did you get all that?

From his back trouser pocket Merlin retrieves a voice recorder, he hits the stop button and nods gravely, “Time to make that call.” Amelia might have not been so talkative with the police, Merlin had decided the precaution was a necessary one proved right by the scandalized look the woman gives the little recorder.

The Lady Unwin handles the police when they arrive. Eggsy is somewhat off-kilter being on this side of a visit from the fuzz, he’s never ever voicing that, like fucking ever. The police spend hours going in and out of Amelia’s room cataloging evidence however the actual questions are polite and concise. The complete opposite to what Eggsy was used to. It dawns on him the inconsistency was because they thought he had money, and that pissed him right the fuck off. The detective finishes asking Eggsy about all the recent not-accidents and he’s about to tell the copper what-for when Harry slides up next to Eggsy arm to arm. The warmth seeps into Eggsy and he’s suddenly too aware of Harry to be much aware of anything else.

The detective gives the two a look, whatever he wants to say is perished by the scowl etched into Harry’s features, he babbles a goodbye and scurries away. Harry had seen the pure irritation blossom on Eggsy’s face from across the room and decided to step in before the boy blew up. The way Eggsy relaxed into him has very particular kind of fire kindled inside Harry. They walk together, quite close, to Lady Unwin’s study passing most of the police officers including the ones escorting Amelia out in handcuffs. Her back is straight and her features are schooled into one of calm indifference. Despite it all, she looks dignified.

Nearer the study Harry hears the Lady tell Merlin, “I’m not long for this world. Why not go out with a bang?” The door is open but Harry knocks on the frame anyway. Lady Unwin smiles brightly at Eggsy and waves them in. 

“Are they going after that Charlie bloke now?” Eggsy asks.

Merlin replies, “Not right now they aren’t.” He doesn’t seem to be too happy about that either. Lady Unwin is not a fan of drama, anger and the looming shadow of death changes people he supposed.

That only confuses Eggsy more, “Why not?”

“Because,” the Lady says sitting behind her writing desk, “An example, I believe, needs to be made. The peerage could use scandal beyond another baroness in rehab anyway. They’ve gotten far too comfortable in their, as you called them Eggsy, ivory towers.”

“M’am, I’m afraid I’m not following.” Harry says.

“To put bluntly, Mr. Hart, I am dying and I intend to take the Hesketh name into the grave with me.”

“You go, Gran.” Eggsy sounds suitably impressed.

Much less impressed and more feeling like a man standing over a pit of bears Harry asks, “How exactly, madam, are we going to do that?”

“The Detective Chief Inspector and I are on very good terms. Eggsy, would you mind if your introduction into society was tad more exciting?”

“Fuck no.”

“Eggsy.” Harry admonishes only because they are in the presence of Lady Unwin. The boy shrugs not at all sorry.

“Then it’s settled. Get some rest all of you, it’s been a long night. Tomorrow Eggsy, you and Harry will continue your lessons. And Eggsy?”

“Yeah?”

“Get that prescription filled first thing in the morning.”

“But—”

Lady Unwin gives him a hard look and Eggsy mumbles a barely-there “fine”. He was too tired to really argue and would probably do whatever his grandmother asked anyway. It was the principal of the thing.

Harry gently leads Eggsy out of the study with his hand pressed ever so lightly on the small of Eggsy’s back. The boy’s feet drag all the way to the stairs, with all the drama associated with the staircase Harry wonders if they could get a rudimentary lift installed. The thought is paradoxically banished from his mind and cemented there when Harry looks up, he had been about to escort a tired and injured Eggsy back to his quarters but he stops dead in his tracks. Once again and for some reason Harry felt for the last time Lee stood tall and proud at the top of the stairs. The blood and ash are still on him but his gaze is softened and totally on Eggsy, Eggsy who doesn’t see him at all. A small smile forms on Lee’s face beneath the grime, it’s a handsome smile only partially obstructed by smeared ashes. Lee turns to Harry and gives him a nod, his lips move but Harry can’t hear the sound more as feel the intention. Something along the lines of “job well-enough done you thick-head old man”, of course Lee and whoever was rattling their chains around the house had been pissed off. They were trying to protect their boy and the man they chose to contact did a grand job of ignoring them. No longer angry but still uncouth Lee sends Harry a loose two-fingered salute and the impression of “look after him” seared into Harry’s mind. Lee’s body dissolves bit by bit into glowing embers like burning paper until nothing remained. Harry rather felt like crying again, that was getting old in his personal opinion.

“Fine. Fucking fine.” He mutters getting a better hold of Eggsy going up the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” Eggsy asks looking around at the blank spaces that have Harry’s rapt attention.

Harry sighs as if he were admitting the hardest of defeats, “Eggsy…the house is haunted.”

Eggsy gives him a weird look, “Everybody already fucking knows that, bruv.”

Harry blinks taken aback then waits until they are safely off those bloody steps before he asks, “Have you ever seen anything?

The boy adopts a mysterious look and shrugs.

“And you’re not frightened?”

At that Eggsy sort of chuckles, “Not really. Fucking freaky, yeah? But the most horrible shite I’ve ever seen was because of living people. They’re the ones can hurt you, they’re the ones everyone should be afraid of.”

Other than the errant terrifying nightmares Harry had to agree. Eggsy often showed wisdom beyond his years and it both impressed and saddened Harry. Harry does indeed see Eggsy to his room, the boy feebly attempts to shoo him away when Harry proposes to assist him into bed because of the cast…well, 90 percent because of the cast. Eggsy shows he can move about with it just fine. He awkwardly strips off his polo shirt, wincing a little at a couple of bruises. Harry’s first instinct is to take another step forward to help, Eggsy slings the shirt off without any assistance and Harry ends up chest to chest with a half-naked Eggsy Unwind. Neither moves away, Harry feels like he’s on fire and all he can do is stare at Eggsy’s beautiful face. Lips slightly parted, eyes soft and bright, it almost hurt to look at him.

In a strangled voice Harry says, “Goodnight, Eggsy.” He pulls away and it leaves him cold.

Eggsy’s brow crinkles, “Night, Harry.”

The next morning and every morning after consists of Eggsy’s training. Through it all Eggsy does unfailingly well. There is a bit when Eggsy flips out a little because, “Harry, the amount of fucking forks on this fucking table is so fucking unnecessary.” He learns the proper function and placement of each one anyway not without a few quiet mumblings of outrage the entire time.

They prepare furiously and the day approaches ever faster. Eggsy begins to show his nerves just as the house returns to its previous “normal”. Odd noises were heard at night with no origin, cold spots, leaving things somewhere only to have them disappear then reappear in a completely different location, all very normal behavior for the Unwin House. After the other more forceful disturbances Harry is glad for it, one may even say appreciative. Except for when he was alone his room reading but feeling like he wasn’t alone at all. The presence wasn’t threatening, merely there. It was only sometimes and even more rarely Harry thought he could smell Lord Unwin’s favourite brand of cigars. Eventually the presence faded all together and Harry couldn’t help feeling a little bit sad for it. He hopes the Lord went to watch over his Lady, because the Lady Unwin was declining more quickly than anyone would have thought.

Most days she rests in the master bedroom only getting up to have tea with Eggsy, they have long conversations that Eggsy can tell tire her out but they also make her perk up. She tells him she has much to say and not a lot of time to say it in, every conversation is important. Nothing is ever trivial. The Lady hides her illness well overall, she’s in bed a lot but to look at her one would never know unless you were Merlin and Harry, perhaps a few others among the staff. Agatha and Mabel surely have taken notice. Cooks notice everything. When the day Eggsy is to be presented to the peerage and officially take his title Lady Unwin looks glamorous in an embroidered blue dress with long sleeves, she appears to be the opposite of sick gliding across the Unwin House. She’s been ready since dawn broke and her tapping fingers were the only thing that belied her excitement.

Eggsy is feeling less than glamorous and ready to throw up his lunch any second. The first time Eggsy ever asks for Harry’s help getting dressed is to put on the suit for the occasion, it had arrived a week before in plenty of time just as Wesley had said. He’s standing before his full-length bedroom mirror waiting for Harry (because he’s got a fuck all idea how to deal with a tie or fucking waistcoats) with a contrite expression pinching his face. The suit, the event, it made everything real. It’s funny how Eggsy could deal with ghosts and people he didn’t even know that well wanting him dead but this moment was the one thing he was having trouble grappling with. Honestly none of it had seemed real. This whole time a large part of him was waiting to be kicked out and told he was the wrong Unwin, or he simply wasn’t good enough. He’d been waiting to go back to his flat and get the hell beat out of by Dean and his goons. It never happened and now, now they were making everything real. He’d been prepared for every outcome other than the one they all said was going to happen. Life wasn’t a fairytale, it’s mostly awful with some good spots thrown in to remind you to stay alive. Eggsy smooths his features, and yet here he was. The fairytales he read Daisy didn’t have ghosts or attempted murder but still he would take what he could get.

“Eggsy?”

Harry startles him out of his reverie, Eggsy offers the older man a wide smile that he hopes looked confident. Harry, the bastard, was not fooled. Less bastardly Harry doesn’t call him out on it. He chit chats about the weather, or the fit of Eggsy’s new oxford shoes, anything other than what Eggsy’s nervous about. Harry dresses Eggsy with military precision, if his hands linger he tells himself it’s not on purpose. If he would ask Eggsy the boy would tell him he didn’t mind in the slightest. There was no time for that however, feelings, as ever Harry’s way, could wait. Probably forever in this case. As soon as Eggsy passes Harry’s inspection, no lint, shoes shined, tie perfect, they meet Lady Unwin and Merlin and leave for the Morton’s.

Eggsy almost forgets his reservations as they walk out because there parked in the driveway is a shiny black limousine, an actual fucking limousine, with fucking champagne inside and everything. Normally Merlin and Harry wouldn’t be riding with Lady Unwin and Eggsy however Eggsy refuses to let Harry out of his sight and the Lady needed a steady arm to hold onto when Eggsy wasn’t available. The Unwins were anything but normal anyway. Harry has plenty of room to sit but he and Eggsy are leg to leg nevertheless. Harry cracks the window upon Eggsy’s request, he watches the mansion as they slowly pull away and for a second it seems like all the windows have vague outlines of people standing at them. As if past Unwins were waiting for their new Lord to return, title and all, at least that was the impression Harry got. It was different now, whatever they were, they seemed interested, patient even. A door had been opened within Harry that was likely never going to be shut again, he didn’t understand why but he wasn’t threatened. He was reassured oddly enough, or maybe he’s just been supernaturally beaten into submission, either way Harry believes it will be okay.

Eggsy believes it will all be okay in a looser much less metaphysical sense, also in a sense that’s tittering on the edge of changing at any second. The beliefs starts to nose dive when they arrive at the Morton’s. The Morton’s, whose property was just as grand as the Unwin’s though their style was more reminiscent of the Italian revival than Victorian gothic, is filled to the brim with posh people and their even more posh vehicles. Some are meandering around the manicured side gardens, there isn’t much in the way of flowers and most of the leaves have fallen in the past weeks but there were hardy shrubs cut into interesting shapes too look at not to mention a few fine sculptures if not a little ostentatious. Those outside seemed to already know who’s driving up the way as their attention and eager faces are waiting for Eggsy and Lady Unwin to step out.

Except Eggsy doesn’t step out. The driver has stopped and Harry’s already out the door holding it open for him and he can’t move. The first time Eggsy was hauled into a police station everyone looked at him, wanting to know who the new punk kid was, wondering if he was going to be a problem. He would be, they knew that, he knew that, so he’d tilted his chin up looked people in the eye and walked with a swagger he didn’t have.

“Eggsy,” Harry says softly so prying ears can’t hear, “have heart dear boy, you were born for this.”

Eggsy swallows then lifts his chin up. His grandmother follows him out and he offers her his arm like a true gentleman. They make quite a pair, Eggsy in his pinstriped bespoke and Lady Unwin in her blue, they were both beautiful in their own ways while still carrying something undefinably “Unwin” about them. Even if the assembled peerage weren’t there because of the Unwins the two would still be turning heads.

Having Harry and his grandmother on both sides as well as Merlin on his six made Eggsy’s confident stride more real, with their support he feels like the noble he’s supposed to be. People parted for them like the Red Sea and Eggsy and company stride right through. Inside the Morton’s house was a stark contrast to the Unwin’s. The Morton’s was all marble and soft pastel lighting while The Unwin House was glossy hardwoods and dark velvets. Eggsy liked the Unwin House better. The Morton’s themselves are there to meet them. Percival and his brother James take them to an elegant ballroom so open and bright Eggsy has to squint for a second, it looks like he’s walking into a fucking Cinderella movie.

“Will you be using a coronet?” Percival asks Lady Unwin.

“Oh, no, that’s a bit old-fashioned anyway, besides I don’t believe we need make my grandson any more uncomfortable than he already is.”

“He looks fine to me.” Percival says with a smile but he’s looking Merlin. Eggsy files that away for later.

“Don’t worry about me gran, let’s just do this.”

James chuckles, “No need to sound so final about it, lad, people love their pomp and circumstance. They’re happy to be here, any reason to sling their titles and imagine the good old days.”

If anything was true that was so much in fact it takes no time at all to assemble the peerage while Eggsy and his grandmother waited atop a low balcony looking over the ballroom floor. A few notables put forth official-sounding words to the audience, Eggsy doesn’t really pay attention to them. He knows that he looks interested and that was all that matters, a lesson taught not by Harry but by his Gran over tea. She had said old men, especially old men with old money, we’re long-winded. More often than not they’ll never ask your opinion on anything either so all you really had to do was stand there and look interested. You could be thinking about David Beckham’s thighs as long as you nodded at the appropriate moments.

When the time comes Eggsy’s little safety net of people breaks apart, Merlin takes Lady Unwin’s arm and walk to the top of the short steps leading down into the ballroom. Harry sends Eggsy an apologetic look before leaving him alone in the Morton brother’s company. Harry introduces the Lady Unwin himself to a crowd of people who already know full well who she is. Still her peers show due respect save one, Eggsy pinpoints him out of the crowd within seconds, Charlie Hesketh. Charlie spots Eggsy as well, his face contorts into one of disgust and something else Eggsy can’t make out. Eggsy winks at him and then doesn’t look at him at all as it was his turn to stand above the masses and try not to die of anxiety.

Merlin hands Harry some legit-looking documents, proof of title and heredity, and he reads something about the crown and legacies until he gives Eggsy a sharp look that intones “pay attention”. Eggsy adjusts his posture and looks the lord he’s supposed to be.

“Presenting to the Lords and Ladies of the assembled peerage,” Harry begins in the most posh voice Eggsy’s ever heard, “Gary Unwin, 14th Viscount Unwin.” A polite applause ripples out from the crowd.

Eggsy takes a breath and walks. Amazingly he doesn’t fall flat on his face or stammer as he’s swarmed by people wanting to meet him. Eggsy also, for the night at least, loses his accent. Instead he adopts Harry’s posh way of speaking, if you asked the ghosts of Unwin House you’d know he’s been practicing it alone in his room for weeks. He’s quickly joined by his grandmother again, Merlin is nowhere to be seen and neither is Harry, but her presence doesn’t last long after introducing Eggsy to a few personal friends of hers—she has to sit down. Someone else finds Eggsy on the ballroom floor however shortly after she’s gone.

A beautiful young woman appears to Eggsy’s side wearing a very modern black number. She curtsies, “Pleasure to meet you Lord Unwin.” The young woman looks up and laughs, “You look like you might be sick at the word!”

In a low voice Eggsy tells her, “’Cos I fucking am.”

She laughs even harder and extends her hand, “Roxanne Morton, Lord Percival Morton’s daughter, you can call me Roxy.”

An invisible burden lifts from his shoulders shaking her hand, he smiles, “Eggsy.”

The two stick together for a good portion of the night, even dance a couple of times. Roxy forgives his fumbles easily and helps him when approached by a new Lord or Lady he has to talk to. He even helps her have an excuse to talk to Duchess Tilde. The next time they’re more or less alone Roxy has to know, “What’s it like living in the ‘House Built by Bones’?”

Eggsy pauses in giving her a fresh flute of champagne, “The fuck?”

“You know, the Unwin House?” Eggsy’s confusion is evident and Roxy purses her lips, “Which I see now you didn’t know…oh, don’t look like that it’s not so bad. That’s just a sort of nickname for the place. You see, when you drive up the western side of the hill the house looks like it’s rising out of the cemetery. Making its foundations crypts and graves, ‘Built by Bones’. See, nothing as sinister as you’re thinking.”

“That sounds pretty fucking sinister to me, Rox.” Eggsy says miserably, honestly how is that not one of the first things you tell someone about when you move in?

“I rather like the imagery.” Roxy says sympathetic, “I prefer to see it as rising from a decadent decaying past into the future. Lots of old properties have names, some quite odd.”

“You’re a shite liar, Lady Morton.” Eggsy says not all that perturbed. A house with a name like that, how could it be any way that what it was? Fucking inviting creepy shite, with a name like that.

A contemptuous voice from behind him makes Eggsy wince, “And you would be an expert on lies, wouldn’t you Eggy?” Charlie Hesketh smells like booze and too much expensive cologne. 

“Back off, Charlie.” Roxy says stepping in front of Eggsy. Roxy had the air of someone who could probably handle herself in any situation but that didn’t mean Eggsy wanted anyone to get hurt because of him.

“Having girls fight your battles now, Eggy? Makes sense,” Charlie steps around Roxy to get in Eggsy’s face, “From what I hear your father was a cowardly bitch too.”

Harry and Merlin come into view far behind Charlie they see something in Eggsy’s face that makes Harry say, “Eggsy, no!” and Merlin say with far too much excitement, “Eggsy, yes!”

The next second Charlie is laid out on the floor groaning and clutching his jaw while Eggsy shakes out the pain in his hand from punching the bastard. A woman close by, one of Lady Unwin’s friends, looks unimpressed, “Oh my, you’re just like your grandmother.” 

From there events unfurl quickly. The crowd’s attention is all on Eggsy again just as a group of police officers appear lead by Merlin and the detective from when Amelia was arrested. They circle Eggsy and Charlie as well. The crowd was absolutely enthralled. Charlie scrambles to his feet, “Arrest this miscreant! He assaulted me!”

The detective doesn’t so much as glance at Eggsy, “Charles Hesketh the III?”

Charlie falters, “Yes?”

“You, sir, are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder.”

“What!?”

Eggsy hears an older gentleman mutter, “Highly irregular, highly irregular.”

That same man’s wife exclaims, “Fucking brilliant!”

“We’ve a confession from an Amelia Irving. As well as text messages between the two of you. Put your hands behind you back and come with us.” Charlie actually looks sad to find out what became of Amelia. 

However he does not accept his own fate as easily. Charlie runs. He gets almost to the ballroom doors leading to the gardens when an officer tackles him. The assembled onlookers all flinch at the impact then awkwardly clap, there wasn’t really a precedent for this sort of thing. Eggsy, high on adrenaline, shoots Roxy a parting smile then makes his way through the throng of people and finds Harry. He grabs the man by the hand and proceeds to drag him off out of view. In this case that happens to be a large coat closet close to the parlor.

“Eggsy—”

Eggsy silences whatever proper thing Harry was about say by using Harry’s shoulders to pull himself onto his tiptoes and kissing him hard. Harry’s hands come to gently rest on Eggsy’s sides, as far as first kisses go it was rather chaste. At first. Harry moans and Eggsy uses that as an invitation to lick into the heat of his mouth. Harry lifts Eggsy all the way up wrapping his boy’s legs around his waist , he can feel Eggsy smile against his mouth. Harry should be protesting this, he should be doing a lot of things, like steering the boy toward Lady Morton who would be a much better match objectively speaking. Though Lady Morton’s googly eyes at Duchess Tilde weren’t subtle at all so he could imagine how that would go, his imagining doesn’t last very long because Eggsy his carding his fingers through Harry’s hair making him shiver. God, he’s wanted this so much for so long, it felt like a dream. Only his dreams didn’t hold a candle to the real Eggsy in his arms. The real Eggsy who feels the same about him apparently.

Eventually they need air, for a long peaceful but not nearly satisfied moment they breathe each other’s air. Harry gives Eggsy’s reddened lips little kisses here and there not really helping them calm down. The only thing that does it is the closet door being thrown open to reveal the Lady Unwin standing there with a blank look on her face. Harry would’ve dropped Eggsy if the boy wasn’t so light on his feet. Merlin is behind her, when he sees them he wisely sneaks away.

Harry opens his mouth to speak but is stopped by a raised hand from the Lady, she crooks her finger at them in the universal sign to follow. Quietly they go to the gardens, which was the original reason she even went to the closet—to get her coat for the cold weather. It was even colder at night but it was well lit.

Lady Unwin points to a bench, “Sit.” 

They do. Harry bounces his leg nervously, this was it. He was going to be fired, banished from the Unwins forever. He’d never see Eggsy again. Eggsy was nervous too. He didn’t quiet grasp the seriousness of what was done. He had a title now and money, but him people were all still just people and class was something you skipped.

“Rather reckless.” Lady Unwin says sitting opposite them on another bench. She sighs and her shoulders relax, she doesn’t look angry, “Be more careful next time. Some matters should remain private.”

Harry’s halfway through penning his goodbye letter in his own head before what she says hits him, “I…what?”

Lady Unwin makes a noise of impatience, “Did you forget I’m dying Mr. Hart?

“Of course not—”

“Good. Harry, I have my grandson, I intend to do right him by him. He’s seems happy, even happier when you’re around. But I won’t be around forever, knowing that you two will have each other when I’m gone, it’s comforting. Besides, it’s a new age. In more ways than one. Frankly Harry, I don’t give a damn. Don’t hurt him, and keep things private…take care of each other. You both deserve the best of this world.” At that Lady Unwin leaves Eggsy and Harry, their hands threaded together and blushing like teenagers.

Two weeks after Eggsy becomes Lord Unwin he makes good on his promise to have his mum and sister move in with him. He tells Daisy she’s a princess and Harry treats her just like one, his mum cries. She bonds quickly with Lady Unwin. The Lady handles Dean through the same strings she pulled to deal with Charlie with no one the wiser. About a week after they move in the Lady Unwin passes away in her sleep. For the first time in a long time, creaky Unwin House is silent.

 

End  
…ish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to write a smutty holiday themed epilogue for this and post it sometime before Christmas thus the “ish”. Thanks for all the comments and kudos for this story (Particular thanks to Spatzi for the info on Eggsy’s title and the peerage!). Ya know, I intended this to be just like a little Halloween fic but as usual things got out of hand.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I say epilogue but, I mean, this feels more like a “Christmas Special” for this AU. This is also one of the fluffiest things I’ve ever written, like seriously, it’s so self-indulgent. And camp. And really, really cliché. Like a peppermint mocha latte with chocolate on top. There is also some sex in this last chapter so you have been warned. Christmas and a pages-long sex scene, not very plotty, ‘tis the season.

 

**Epilogue**

“Harry.”

“Eggsy.”

“I didn’t want to have to ever play this card.  But you ain’t giving me much choice.”

“…”

“But it’s my fucking house and you’re wearing the fucking hat.”

“It’s not really a hat…”  Harry held the gold paper crown in his hands tentatively.

 The crown was asymmetrical and poorly pasted—a Daisy Unwin original.  She had made them all one in fact as it was a family tradition since the little girl was born and she’d always made them herself rather than use the ones that came with the Christmas crackers.  Dean had hated the popping noise of the crackers and would throw a fit if he saw one in their flat so Eggsy had shown a very young Daisy how to make the paper crowns herself.  Daisy didn’t know her brother and mum hadn’t celebrated anything before she was born because the death of Eggsy’s father had been so very close to the day, Eggsy would never tell her either because it didn’t matter.  Daisy was the best Christmas present he ever got anyway. 

Daisy had to make significantly more crowns this year than ever before, she was delighted but insisted on “fittings” like they were all about to be crowned royalty.  Everyone at the Unwin table that year had a personal little crown coming their way.  Hand-delivered by a steely-eyed Eggsy, the hard set of his jaw dared any of them to tell the girl no.  Of course Harry was getting one, he had a seat at the table as did Merlin, along with Merlin’s new boyfriend Percival and Percival’s daughter Roxy who Eggsy had become quite close with rather quickly.  Roxy’s Uncle James wouldn’t be joining them, he was in Spain, “where the sun hasn’t abandoned the people of this sad frozen rock.”

Harry sighs the sigh of a man without options, he places the crown on his head and tries not to blush like an idiot.  The moment Eggsy’s eyes light up in something other than a vague threat he fails.

“Good.”  Eggsy says in a false haughty tone, the boy leans up and gives Harry a soft and too quick peck on the lips, “Now I have to go see a man about a Santa costume.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Mr.  Hart this is a serious matter.”

“Undoubtedly, my Lord.”

Eggsy grins so bright and beautiful Harry is momentarily awestruck.  He presses his lips to Harry’s once more before indeed seeing a man about a Santa costume, Merlin to be exact.  Harry swallows his pride and keeps the crown firmly in place.  He too had a few last minute dinner problems to resolve.

The Unwin House looked more festive than it had for decades, Eggsy said it was all for his sister but Harry could tell by how the boy simply glowed that he loved it just as much.  Percival had even remarked when he and Roxy were welcomed in that morning on how the mood of the place was so much lighter than he remembered.  The air smelled of fresh cinnamon and evergreen garland with red and gold ribbon tastefully lined bannisters, fireplaces, and doorways.  Harry ordered poinsettia table settings to Michelle’s unbridled glee, he’d never gotten that reaction from making flowers appear, it was lovely.  Eggsy had insisted on helping with the lights, the boy could reach the highest places without ever losing a step.  His balance had been perfect but that didn’t mean Harry hadn’t grown a few more grey hairs just watching his boy teeter off the side of the damned roof like it were nothing.  Michelle had patted him on the back consolingly, she’d had to watch the boy grow like that—climbing about, flipping, jumping off too high places, the _horror_.

Harry blinks, and shakes off imagining the worst to focus on all the good warming the air in Unwin House in the present.  Despite his lingering sorrow that the late Lord and Lady of the house wouldn’t be with them there was indeed much warmth.  The warm feeling was a kind of holiday comfort that seeped into your bones and made smiles come easier, it was a happy little magic that could only be found this time of year.  It could also have been the literal warmth of Mabel, one of the head cooks, having every oven they had cranked up and filled with every yuletide meal one could think of in preparation for dinner the next day.  Harry strides into the kitchen with a list of orders for the woman but they die on his tongue at the sight of her running around.

“Oh, Mr. Hart!  All is well I hope?”  She beams at him even surrounded by chaos as she is.  Mabel takes a cursory glance at the crown on his head and wisely bites her lip.

“Everything’s just fine,” Harry smiles deciding he would indeed take care of the list himself, “I’m heading down to the wine cellar.  I had my mind on a very particular vintage for Christmas.”

Mabel’s mood dampens a bit, “Ah yes, the cellar.  I do so hate going down there.  I know the house has a bit of a personality, but down there it’s…just not her best side if you catch my meaning.  But don’t mind me, Mr. Hart, is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, no, carry on.”

“As you wish, sir, careful on them stone steps—they get slippery this time of year.”

In Mabel’s defense, the basement was very much the creepiest place in the house.  However Harry wasn’t sure if that wasn’t just a basement thing in general.  Basements and attics were creepy, it was an unwritten law somewhere.  That it was the Unwin House’s basement should have made no difference if it were instead the basement of some quaint little cottage in a country village.  It did matter of course.  Their basement was dark and stone-walled, it shared the same ground as the tombs on the side of the hill and no one could ever overlook that.  The House had been much quieter since the Lady Unwin’s passing, it was true, however the basement seemed to have not gotten the memo.  The frivolity of the holiday did not seem to sink that low in the house either.

The small basement door in the kitchen creaks from disuse, Mabel is correct about the steps, they’ve a sheen on them from the cold of the basement hitting the heat of the upstairs.  Mabel watches Harry out of the corner of her eye as he descends the steps, he’s got his brave face on which is a bit taken away from with the paper crown and all.  She shakes her head, and wonders where in world Agatha has gone off to with her rolling pin.

Luckily for Harry’s nerves, which were made of bloody steel by this point that you very much, the first thing he came upon downstairs was the wine cellar. Rows of fine wines laying safely in their designated box with no labeling system in place unless you physically pulled the bottle out, you simply just had to “know” where what you wanted was located beforehand.  Harry’s uncle had taught him the geography of the wine cellar when he was only thirteen years old, he knew it like the back of his hand.  So it is somewhat strange that he can’t find the bottle he’s looking for.  He spends a solid half-hour growing agitated and looking high and low in the chilly damp air until finally Harry huffs in defeat and turns to make his way back up the stairs unwilling to spend any more time down there.  He takes one step and looks up, there at the top waiting without a speck of dust on it is the bottle of Chateau Lafite-Rothschild Bordeaux he’d been keen on retrieving.  The light from beneath the basement door hits it casting a red glow around the bottle.

Harry suppresses a shiver and clears his throat, “Ah, thank you.”  His words hang on empty air and swiftly he’s up the steps grabbing the bottle, then ever so politely shuts the door behind him.

The house would always be peculiar, “Fucking haunted.” Eggsy’s voice chimes helpfully inside his head.  It was usually quiet these days, most of the house anyway.  Harry shakes off the experience, er, occurrence sounded better.  Less like Zac Baggans (curse Merlin a thousand times for suggesting a Ghost Adventures marathon to Eggsy, it had been the longest 13 hours in Harry’s life).  Christmas day was tomorrow and it was imperative everything was perfect.  It was, after all, their first Christmas together.

“Their” of course meaning Harry and Eggsy, Harry was pleased to have a full house again however he wanted it to be, again in risk of sounding like a love-struck fifteen year-old, _special_.  Not that every day with Eggsy wasn’t special, Harry just got the rage-inducing impression the boy never had anyone go out of their way for him for any reason.  Harry technically went out of his way for Eggsy every day, though it was his job.  A distinction must be made, Eggsy had to _know_ that even if he wasn’t the young lord’s valet Harry would do it all anyway.  Gladly, gratefully.  Eggsy has unknowingly incorporated himself so fully into Harry’s life now, Harry would do anything to keep him.

  1.   Everything had to be perfect.



Of course everything goes to hell.  The moment Harry steps back into the kitchen he smells it.  Smoke, burning. Mabel is frantically digging under the kitchen sink for the fire extinguisher as flames lick out the sides of half of the oven doors.  Two of the kitchens four ovens were basically on fire.  Harry nearly drops his bottle before he can set it aside to help contain the chaos.  Somehow the fire jumps to the other ovens as well in the time it takes them to find the extinguisher and start spraying. They manage to put the flames out before anything drastic happens like the ovens exploding, the ceiling does have a huge black mark and the ovens are essentially scrap metal now.

Miraculously, Harry’s crown survives.

“What on Earth just happened!?”  Harry exclaims, his voice harsh from the smoke.

The explanation Mabel gives is so quickly babbled he barely catches the basics of it which were, “She had no idea what happened, the ovens somehow got turned on too high, food didn’t use to be this combustible, she was certain” and now they were out of a way to prepare dinner.  Tears form in her eyes, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Hart!”

“There, there, calm down.  It’s…”  Harry sighs, “Fine, Mabel.  No need for that, we will figure out some alternatives. 

“What will we tell Lord Unwin?”  The older woman sniffs.

“Nothing for now.”  Or ever, if Harry can help it.  Were there any caterers open on Christmas Eve?  It seemed doubtful however money tended to keep doors open.

Agatha returns soon after the flames are gone, she takes one look at her kitchen and the guilty expressions on Harry and Mabel, drops the egg cartons in her basket then lets  out a scream mixed between fury and sadness.  She chases the completely innocent Harry out with a spatula slamming the door behind him.

Harry takes a deep breath, it was fine everything was fine.  They would get it sorted.  Merlin, he needed to find Merlin.  The craggedy old “wizard” was great at fixing things, events, not so much ovens but Harry was certain he could do something.  He deposits the bottle in the dining room wine case and heads to the library, most of the library was new.  Eggsy found it one day walking through the house and asked if there was any way to restore the neglected room, possibly expand it.  Of course there was, Harry had a contractor over the next day and put in an order for some of the newer more popular books.  The renovations were done in a fortnight, since then the library had become something of a hub of activity.  Merlin had a couple of computers installed like it was on bloody university property.  Eggsy seemed to love it though, he often was in there with Daisy to “supplement her education” which usually meant playing computer games for a couple of hours.  He finds Merlin and Eggsy there.

Merlin looks positively grim, he didn’t think the man’s eyebrows went any lower but appears Harry was wrong.  It might have had something to do with the Santa suit.  Merlin was wearing a Santa suit, thick black belt with a buckle and all, Eggsy plops the trademark hat on Merlin’s shiny head and looks incredibly proud of it.  Merlin stares daggers at the boy but does not remove any piece of the suit.

“I would very much like to know how you convinced him to wear that.  In fact I would pay to know.”  Harry says with a smirk.  Merlin’s glower turns from Eggsy to Harry without much effect.

Eggsy’s eyebrows go up, “Percival.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Hilarious.”  Merlin grumbles, “I am merely embracing…the season, for young Lady Daisy.”

“He wants to embrace something, bruv.” Eggsy snickers.  Ah, the things we do for those we love, Harry sympathized.

Red-faced Merlin surges out of his reading chair, “Did you require anything of us Harry or did you simply want to pour salt into my wounds?”

“Just you, Merlin, if you wouldn’t mind, Eggsy?”

“Yeah, alright.  We’re done here,” the boy winks making Merlin frown impossibly deeper, “We’re lighting the tree tonight, don’t forget!”  They’d refrained from plugging in the massive evergreen until tonight for…well, Eggsy didn’t really say why.  Dramatic effect?  More than likely just to have something for Daisy to look forward before the big day.

Unfortunately Merlin’s abilities to ring up companies on Christmas Eve were the same as Harry’s.  No one was open, no one cared they were willing to pay outlandish amounts for the smallest of deliveries.  The few places they had the most hope for didn’t even pick up yet their messaging system said they were still open, obviously not everyone celebrated the holiday but it did seem when offered a couple of days off the whole of bloody England took it.  Merlin went online to search for some caterers further away, not a soul answered.  The world was against him, Harry decided.  The entire world.

Night falls in a cold slow roll bringing thick cloud cover with it.  The Mortons have gathered with the Unwins around the tree, the only thing missing from it is the star and that’s in Daisy’s awed hands.  She’s up on Eggsy’s shoulders and Roxy is steadying him with a hand clutching his horrid holiday themed jumper.  Even with the extra height advantage Eggsy is forced to his tip-toes in order for Daisy to reach the top and place the star.  Honestly, it’s adorable.  Harry discretely snaps a photo of the moment aware of how much Eggsy’s dislikes his photo taken but also knowing Eggsy will probably frame and it hang it somewhere easily seen on the wall.  Daisy claps her hands when the star is secure an Eggsy lets her down, pretending to drop her at first while never actually letting go so that she’s all giggles when her feet are on the floor again.

The tree is tall and healthy, Harry had gone with the Unwins to choose it, they’d spent a solid two hours out in the cold of before stumbling on the perfect one.  Harry knew exactly when it was right by the way Eggsy stopped in his tracks, stared up with emerald universes reflected in his eyes and proclaimed a bit too loudly to be polite, “This is the fucking one.  Harry!  I fucking found our fucking tree, give me an axe!”  He was not allowed to cut down the tree himself and he was a bit put out about it, “What’s the point of being a Lord if I can’t cut down a fucking tree when I want to?”  Now the tree was draped in silver and gold ribbon with accents of red here and there.  Some of the ornaments were from the Unwins, most were brand new along with more lights than there were stars in the sky.  At least that’s what Daisy said and they all concurred. 

Eggsy wiggles below the tree’s branches to reach the outlet while Merlin dims the lights.  Percival has a little boy grin on his face, one of his arms is around Roxy’s shoulders the other hand reaches for Merlin as he returns from hitting the lights, sadly he’s out of his Santa suit.  Their fingers link together and Merlin stares straight ahead rather like a soldier about to face battle.  Harry snaps a discrete picture of that too.  Michelle picks up Daisy and Eggsy starts a countdown, “1…2…3!” 

The tree is illuminated, bright and beautiful, the star at the top glitters around the edges with fiber-optic lights.  Eggsy crawls out from beneath it using Harry’s offered hand to get up then never letting go of that hand he leans into Harry.  Harry can smell mint and pine on Eggsy and snuggles him closer until the boy’s warmth seeps into him.  For long blissful moment all is well, the night is quiet and the lights lovely.  Dinner problems were tomorrow’s problems.  Harry had forgotten the world was against him for a second, the universe decided to remind him.

The lights on the tree flicker and so does everything else in the house.  A loud pop indicative of a fuse blowing makes them jump, the tree goes out and they are plunged into darkness.  Harry can’t hear the heaters running any more either.

Percival flicks open a shiny zippo lighter, “Well, that was unexpected.”

“You don’t think that was everything, do you?”  Michelle asks of the room.

“Yeah, mum, I think it was.”  Eggsy turns to Harry, “Breaker box?”

“I…”  Harry pauses, “Um, Merlin?”

“I have no idea either.”  
“Fucking fantastic.”  Eggsy swears low enough for Harry to hear but not Daisy.  He’s been trying to clean his language up when she was around, it’s been an uphill battle.

They call the electric company who was dealing with a series of blackouts caused by an approaching winter storm to the north of them, wind damage mostly, and wouldn’t be able to come out to the Unwin estate for at least twelve hours.  Twelves whole hours in the dark and the cold on Christmas Eve.  Harry braced himself for the look of pure disappointment on Eggsy’s face, real and biting, the worst kind of wind that cuts through a man to leave him shivering.  That’s what disappointment on those golden features was to Harry.  Eggsy is gone from his side, the cold Harry feels is almost certainly imagined, the rooms would contain their heat for at least another hour.

Eggsy returns a moment later slightly out of breath looking not at all disappointed because of their lot with torches for everyone and the question, “Do most of the guest rooms have fireplaces, Harry?”

“All of them… Shall I call some help and light everyone’s room?”

The beam of light from Eggsy’s torch makes his cheek bones sharper and gives his eyes a pale glow, “Um, I kind of gave everybody the night off, bruv.”

“ _Everyone_?”

“It’s Christmas, Harry!”

And that’s how Harry, Merlin, and Eggsy (who refused to let them do it on their own) went around four rooms themselves with matches and fresh logs to light the fireplaces.  By the time they were done the house was indeed quite chilled and the three had somehow managed to get soot smudged on their faces and clothes.  Eggsy’s was a single grey slash across his cheek like war paint Michelle tries to wipe off with her thumb the moment she sees him again.  He scowls but doesn’t move until she’s done fretting.

“I suppose I’ll turn in early,” Roxy says.  She’s the only one with her own room, she’d spent a large portion of her young schooling years in cramped dormitories and since then always aches for wide open spaces.  Alone.  She sends her father a glare when she talked about it and each time Percival counters with, “That school made Oxford a sure thing.”

“If anyone wants to stay warm, I suggest they do the same.”  Merlin tells them all.  They had a long wait before the power was back on and best they wait in warmth, or sleep as the case for a few of them may be.

Merlin and Percival take a room together, Roxy high-fives her father when they stride past each other.  Merlin flushes Santa-suit red.  Michelle gathers up an already tired Daisy, Eggsy goes with them promising to meet Harry in their room a bit later. 

They read The Night Before Christmas to Daisy together every year.  A couple of times either Eggsy or his mum couldn’t be there but there was always at least one of them to read the story every year before going to bed.  They would read by orange fire-light this year with squinting eyes and wrapped up a little too well.  Eggsy and Michelle switch off pages and find that Daisy had fallen asleep before they even reached the end.  Eggsy slips out with an ex-delinquent’s silent grace placing soft kisses to Daisy’s forehead and his mum’s cheek before padding softly down the hall to Harry.  Harry was right when he told him the house didn’t hold heat very well, it’s freezing.  He’d taken his shoes off to climb into the bed and hadn’t bothered to put them back on.  Mistake.  His socks weren’t doing anything to keep the iciness of the hardwood floors from bleeding into the soles of his feet.  They did however have reindeer printed on them, so really, he was still the winner.

Harry’s in the master bedroom with the mattress dragged off the bed closer to the fireplace with blankets and pillows heaped on top,  everything’s cast in warm light and Harry looks soft and vaguely nervous. Eggsy knows the idea of tearing a bed a part like that probably went against every instinct Harry had but he did it anyway.  For him, because Harry didn’t want him to be cold.  Like Eggsy facing any sort of inconvenience was the worst possible thing in the world.  Eggsy doesn’t say anything as Harry rises from a random ornamental chair by the window, he crosses the room and envelops the taller man in a fierce hug for the thought and for the sad look Harry’s been trying to hide from Eggsy.

“I’m sorry, Eggsy.”  Harry says with his face buried in his boy’s neck.

“What the hell for?”  Eggsy sounds bewildered.

Harry sighs and rests his forehead on Eggsy’s.  They had an easy affection, their first time hadn’t been long after their first kiss, and after the initial awkwardness everything was just so…natural.  Made for each other, planets aligning, basically everything Harry never put much stock in because against all odds he tried to be a practical man.  Logical.  Neither words were really nurtured in the Unwin House.

“I wanted…things to be perfect for you.  I’m afraid it’s all…mucked up.”

Eggsy makes an exasperated noise then takes a long breath, bracing himself for his own words, “Did you know this time last year, Dean locked me out see, and I didn’t want to bother my mates so I walked all night?  Nowhere in particular, just walked until I couldn’t feel my face or my feet.  I sat down at a bus stop and accidentally fell asleep.  Cops hassle you if you do that, but instead I woke up under a blanket with this old woman next to me with hot chocolate.  Because it was Christmas, I guess, I think I would’ve been hauled off if it weren’t.”

Harry’s eyes burn at the unexpected admission, “Eggsy—”

“Shut up, Mr. Hart,”  Eggsy says with a fond smile, “My point is:  I’m grateful.  I’m so fucking grateful, Harry.  I saw the burned out kitchen, and we’re going a bit more Victorian than I’m used to but it’s _perfect.  You’re perfect._   I couldn’t be happier.  I really couldn’t.”  He doesn’t say for the first time in his whole life he feels safe, feels his family is safe.  He can see himself living past twenty-five and the world is softer, less inclined to hurt him.  Eggsy doesn’t want Harry to be hurt on his behalf, he’d only wanted him to understand.  Rather than let Harry make the knightly vows that he can just tell are on the tip of his tongue Eggsy kisses him and runs his fingers through his hair in the way that makes Harry shiver.

Harry probably won’t ever believe he’s enough for this gorgeous boy, his Lord, but he would give him everything he had as long as Eggsy would allow it.  Harry deepens the kiss causing Eggsy to moan into his mouth which, honestly, was easily Harry’s favourite sound. It’s a breathy sound and full of barely contained heat, just shy of a whimper.  Harry pulls away, hates doing so but he has to say it before he shouts it, before it burns him inside, “I love you.”

Eggsy’s laugh is a low rumble that sends swooping sensations sparking through Harry’s abdomen, “I know.  I love you too.”  He drags Harry down to his level to lick back into his mouth.

Harry drags his hands down Eggsy’s back, ghosting over the pretty swell of his arse, and grips his thighs hoisting the blonde up.  The boy’s legs immediately wrap around Harry’s waist, he can feel Eggsy growing hard against him, the knowledge sends Harry’s blood singing and to all the right places.  He walks them to the mattress and lays Eggsy gently down on it. 

The care has Eggsy rolling his eyes, he refuses to let go of his valet and grinds his groin up into Harry’s.  Harry moans, “ _Fuck_.”

Eggsy eyes glitter mischievously, “Mr. Hart, that’s hardly proper language.”

After licking a stripe up the column of Eggsy’s neck ending with a kiss to his jaw Harry replies, “I’ll try to refrain in the future, my Lord.”

“You better fuckin’ not.”  Eggsy groans relaxing his head onto the pillow behind him.  

Harry hikes Eggsy’s jumper up pressing feather-light kisses on the creamy skin he reveals inch by inch.  He hovers over a pink nipple before grazing his teeth across it.  He feels Eggsy’s hand clutch at his hair as the boy gasps.  Harry lavishes attention there until Eggsy gets antsy and flips them over using the considerable strength in his thighs.  He pins Harry down and rolls his hips in waves, they’re both panting and the warmth of the fire has nothing on the heat they’ve generated between them, then abruptly Eggsy gets off Harry completely.  Not in the way Harry preferred either.

  Eggsy stands up off the mattress wordlessly to cross the expanse of the room to his nightstand and retrieve a little bottle out of it.  He moves languidly, far too slow for Harry’s taste but he loses the jumper on his way back and unzips his trousers with a smirk, so Harry would never in a million years complain.  Eggsy takes even more time peeling his trousers off, he’s not wearing anything underneath and Harry can’t believe Eggsy is _his_.  Eggsy straddles him again, Harry’s eyes are drawn down by the V of the boy’s hips to the gentle upward curve of his leaking cock.  Harry’s mouth goes dry at the sight.  He doesn’t quite remember how his own shirt becomes unbuttoned and tossed aside, however is fully aware when Eggsy tugs at his belt buckle with his teeth making an impatient noise deep in his throat.

A little too hastily Harry helps Eggsy undo the belt and pull his waistband down, Eggsy has his mouth on the tip of Harry’s cock the moment its free and _hums_ with his hand on Harry’s hip to help calm the inevitable bucking at the vibration.  From day one Eggsy has been breathtakingly enthusiastic, they had sex only a couple of times since and yet Harry, despite the natural fit of them, is always anxious.  Between the mind blowing pleasure thoughts of his  perceived inadequacy filter in.  Not being good enough, fit enough, young enough.  Eggsy seems to sense these thoughts now, so as if to prove a point he takes all of Harry’s considerable length into the searing heat of his mouth. 

“Ohh, _God.”_ Harry sobs.

Harry can feel Eggsy’s smile as he starts to bob his head up and down somewhat harshly.  He’s so hard it’s almost painful, Harry has never desired anyone so much.  Eggsy pulls off him, his cock making a filthy wet noise in doing so.  Sliding up Eggsy says close to Harry’s ear, “Fuck me, Harry.”

“My dear boy,”  Harry flips them to their original position, his trousers are around his ankles but he doesn’t bother with them, “you are incredible.”

Eggsy relinquishes the bottle of lube he’d retrieved to Harry who snaps it open, halting his movements when he smells the contents, “Is that…gingerbread?”

Smiling Eggsy simply says, “It’s Christmas, Harry.”

Harry’s face goes deep red, Eggsy had went out and bought new lube with this exact moment in mind.  His cock twitches.  Running his hands soothingly over Eggsy’s thighs Harry asks to be sure before going forward, “No condom?”  They’d always used one before.

“It’s Christmas, Harry,” Eggsy says again with a cocked eyebrow.  He spreads his legs further and adds softly, “I trust you.”

Harry practically growls.  Leaning forward he presses one more kiss to Eggsy’s parted lips then slicks up a finger pressing against Eggsy’s rosy hole.  The ring of muscle gives and Harry curses, “You’re so tight.”

Eggsy bites his lip and doesn’t respond.  Harry’s finger is insistent, thrusting slowly in and out of his body stopping only to add a little more lube.  Harry asks if he’s alright before adding another long finger stretching him open even more.  Eggsy makes quiet _ahh ahh_ noises each time those fingers move in and out, one more is added and he feels so delightfully exposed.  Harry twists his wrist just so and brushes across the bundle of nerves inside him that makes him shout and his toes to curl.

“Harry if don’t get inside me right now, I swear down,”  Eggsy doesn’t finish because Harry has poured lube on his own cock and sunk into him in one brutal thrust.  Eggsy sees stars, he can _feel_ the hot pulse of Harry’s cock inside him, so full and complete.

Harry waits for Eggsy to adjust before he shifts forward, sinking further in until he’s pressed flush against Eggsy’s arse, leaning over Eggsy to lace his fingers with Eggsy’s above the boy’s head.  Eggsy’s mouth is red and open, he’s so beautiful, there’s a sheen on him from exertion turned gold by the firelight.  Everything about the boy was gold.  Harry pulls out just so the head of his cock is tugging at Eggsy’s entrance then pistons back in, over and over.  He likes the pretty mewling sounds that Eggsy tries to prevent from escaping but just can’t.  The pace Harry sets is matched at each hard thrust, Eggsy hooks his legs around him and moves in perfect tandem.  Harry finds the perfect angle that hits the boy’s prostate each and every time.

“Harder.”  Eggsy moans, more like demands.  Harry, in all things, gives his Lord what he wants.  The sound of slapping flesh accompany the crackling fire, they pants into each other’s mouths with intermitted kisses between breaths. 

The pressure builds and builds.  Harry takes both of Eggsy’s wrists into one of his hands while his other snakes down to wrap around Eggsy’s cock jerking him off as he fucks roughly into his tight heat.  The pitch of Eggsy’s moans turns deeper and Harry moves his hand with more vigour, “Come for me, Eggsy.”

Eggsy’s back arches divinely and he spills into Harry’s hand.  Harry is close behind, his hips grind down and he comes with a loud moan.  He slumps onto his elbows careful not to put his full weight on the boy below him.  Harry kisses the nearest skin to him which happens to be behind Eggsy’s ear, it makes him giggle.  His voice is a little wrecked and Harry is rather proud of that.

“Fucking hell,” Eggsy sighs contently.  Harry moves to find something to clean them off with but Eggsy protests and latches onto Harry like very sexy octopus which Harry didn’t even know was possible until just then, “Later.” 

He places a reverent kiss to Eggsy’s forehead, “Okay.”

When morning rolls in the fire is out but they aren’t cold.  A blinking clock confirms power had returned to the Unwin House.  Fortunately before going to sleep Harry had put them both into night clothes.  Eggsy was always lethargic and wonderfully clingy after making love so it was something of a job.  Fortunate because not ten minutes after Harry opens his eyes, refusing to move in fear of disturbing the bliss of getting to wake up with Eggsy in his arms,  Roxy is banging excitedly at their chamber door.  Eggsy rockets out of bed without knowing what exactly for.  Harry pouts, but like, in a gentlemanly way.

“Eggsy!  Wake up!  Your mother is amazing!”  Roxy sounds far too awake considering it was, Harry finds his watch on the floor, 6 o’clock in the bloody morning.

Eggsy stands there for a minute, blinky slowly, the loud knocks seem to shock him fully out of his sleepy state.  He scowls at the door and goes to open it, Harry rushes up to get the door before him—principal of thing.  Roxy grins knowingly at them, she’s wearing pajamas printed with giraffes and was holding three mugs with spoons in them.

“Cake!”  Roxy exclaims, “In a mug!” 

“It’s a miracle.”  Eggsy deadpans taking one anyway.  Its turns out while the ovens were caput the microwave was working and the only person that could work magic with one of those was Michelle Unwin.  She’s made everyone chocolate cake in a mug in the wee hours of the morning, the Mortons had never seen anything so fantastic.

Harry takes one, “Cake for breakfast?”

Eggsy winks at him and pitches his voice low, lending a more intimate meaning to the phrase, “It’s Christmas, Harry.”  Harry blushes so furiously he has to turn away pretending to find their slippers so they can go downstairs.

Halfway down the three hear bells jingling.  Eggsy remembers the plan he and Merlin made yesterday then beckons the others quickly with him down the stairs.  Daisy is with Michelle pressed against the huge arched windows of the main sitting room where the tree is lit in all its glory.  Daisy turns excitedly around and sees Eggsy, “Santa is outside!”  The little girl squeals. 

Percival appears out of the hallway holding a mug of his own and all together they look out the window.  Sometime late last night the winter storm that had been north of them hit bringing mountains of snow that glittered in the morning sun.  In that snow was a singular figure running away in a red suit lined in white fur carrying a hug red sack slung over his shoulder.  “Santa’s” belly bounced has he ran awkwardly trying to get through the snow, his beard, his very fake beard, flowed in the wind. “Santa” is also wearing a pair of thick black glasses that look exactly like Merlin’s. Percival laughs so hard he bends over holding is stomach unable to stop.  He looks a little in love,  Harry thinks.  Harry is grinning too, the mood was infectious and…he looks to all their delighted faces, perfect.  Everything was perfect.

“Did he leave you anything, flower?”  Eggsy asks Daisy getting her attention long enough for Merlin/Santa to disappear behind a particularly big snowdrift.  It looked on purpose but there was a high possibility Merlin just fell into a whole.  Harry would get a rescue mission together later if it was needed.

Daisy nods and runs to the tree as if she just remembered.  They all follow her, except for Percival who couldn’t quite stop laughing yet.  Merlin makes a mysterious return fifteen minutes later and they’re halfway done ripping through wrapping paper.  Percival makes him disappear again five minutes after that.  When they return again together Merlin lips are red and it had nothing to do with the cold weather. 

Daisy has them outside in the midst of a snowball fight in no time.  No, not a snowball fight, it was straight-up snow warfare complete with spying, espionage and Eggsy pretending to want to give Harry a kiss only to shove snow in the back of his shirt.  Harry howls and spins trying to get it out, he turns to the house and at the same window they’d all been peering out not long ago there, solid and real as anything, was Lady Unwin all in white smiling serenely at them, proud, happy.  He blinks and she’s gone.  Never there, or maybe always there.  Watching out for all of them.  Despite the snow he feels warm inside.  Eggsy’s laugh heralds another snowball launch and Harry gets his head back in the game in time to dodge him only to face Roxy and a snowball the size of a small dog.

They’re granted one more thing before the day is out.  Merlin informs Harry that he managed to get ahold of someplace willing to deliver on Christmas day. 

At the distinguished Unwin dinner table, everyone in their respective paper crowns, Harry pours his bottle of Bordeaux to go with the six pizzas they have delivered to the house. 

And it’s special, in all the ways that matter—it’s perfect.

Now all Harry had to figure out was how to dog-proof the Unwin House for the puppy Eggsy bought Daisy.  No matter what Eggsy said, the puppy was most definitely not a bulldog.

 

 

 

End.

(I mean it this time.)

(No, really.)

(I’m, like 90 percent sure.)

(Maybe 80 percent.)

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays everyone, lots of love, and thanks for reading.


End file.
